Beyond the Edge

Everest Hero Jim Whittaker on the Outdoors, Gear, and His Favorite Ice Cream

Mary Anne Potts — Fri, 17 May 2013 13:50:22 +0000

Jim Whittaker; Photograph by Cory Richards

See more of Jim Whittaker in this video and portrait gallery. Read more about the state of Mount Everest in the June issue of National Geographic.

The first time I met 84-year-old Jim Whittaker, a giant both in height (6’5″) and spirit, he was literally throwing around the heavy (and sharp) ice ax he used to become the first American to plant a U.S. flag on Mount Everest’s summit. At a small gathering in Salt Lake City, Utah, he challenged that we needed to “get the bastards outside” by educating them and sharing the value of being connected to nature. He raved about his summit partner, Nawang Gombu, “a prince of a man” with whom he was lifelong friends. Each additional encounter with Jim—and there have been as we honor the 50th anniversary of that expedition—has been just as memorable, humorous, and kind spirited.

After the 1963 American Everest Expedition, Jim, a national hero, continued to define his life in the mountains and the outdoors—and even was the CEO of REI. The expedition is credited with inspiring an interest in mountaineering and the outdoors in Americans like never before. Many of today’s current outdoor industry leaders wax poetically about how, as kids, they read Tom Hornbein’s book The West Ridge or had posters of the 1963 American Everest Expedition on their bedroom walls. That’s hefty gift to our country—and one that we need to keep sharing, because, as Jim says: “If they love it, they will take care if it.”

Here Whittaker answers a few questions—and gives me a pretty sizable homework assignment.

Adventure: What would you say are three of the best outdoor adventures in the U.S.?

Jim Whittaker: I’d have to say Mount Rainier…

A: How many times have you climbed Mount Rainer?

J.W.: 80.

A: Wow, that’s almost once for every year of your life.

J.W.: But I guided through college. It was an opportunity for people who had never climbed before to go up on that mountain with a guide. You roped up with that person, so if they fell, they could kill you, so you would teach them as much as you knew.

A: What else?

J.W.: Some of the most beautiful places are in the parks. I’d say Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon. And then I’d say the ocean. There are a lot of ocean beaches. That’s an easy one for people to get to.

A: What do you like to do when you are at the beach?

J.W.: Everything. I like to lie in the sun, but I’ve sailed a boat with my wife, Dianne, and our sons from here in Port Townsend, Washington, to Australia and back. We sailed down the coast and across to the Marquesas, then to Tahiti, and all the way down to Australia. It took four years. I love the water. And the boys were 11 and 13. I took them out of school. Joss graduated from Brown with honors. And Leif graduated from Western Washington with honors. People said, aren’t you afraid of pirates and stuff? And our answer was: Do you know how dangerous middle school is these days?

That’s an easy one. People can get to the beaches and oceans. And if there’s a marina they can get on a boat for a little bit. Just to see the fish and the clear water. It’s a whole new world.

I dive, our whole family dives. I have been down to 180 feet. I figure I’m the only guy who has been to the highest point of Earth and down 180 feet deep.

A. That’s quite a perspective. How do you think outdoor gear has changed since you climbed Everest 50 years ago?

J.W.: The biggest change is the boots. We wore three layers of leather. And they got wet. So for two months we were in wet leather boots, and we’d have to take them into our sleeping bags because they’d freeze like rock.

Now they are plastic so they don’t get wet—oh what a difference! They are half the weight of our boots. And can you imagine the difference? Every step you take, and we took thousands of steps, is lighter and your feet are dry, for God’s sake. That’s a big change.

Actually Eddie Bauer made such good clothing. And down hasn’t changed, but now they are putting it into lighter covers and lighter fabric. But down is the best insulation. You look at the birds, and they are flying in zero weather and they are flying in warmer temperatures. And it works. It’s really good stuff. There are some little changes, the ice ax shapes and crampons are a little better. There’s now some synthetics. But up on Everest it was always so cold, it was a dry cold, so you didn’t need to put a waterproof frabric on the outside on your down parka.

A: Why do you think it’s important for us to remember the 1963 American Everest Expedition 50 years later?

J.W.: The team, going over there and putting the American flag on the highest point on the planet, that was a big deal—and not just among mountain climbers, though I think they were happy about it. At that time, in the 60s, we had a lot going on. MLK was shot and five months after we climbed Everest John F. Kennedy was killed. The 1960s were turbulent. And that’s why I think our 50 year anniversary is good to look back and see, Hey, we were doing some pretty good stuff in those days.

A: Your expedition is credited with inspiring Americans to get interested in the outdoors. Do you agree?

J.W.: I have heard that a lot. People come up and say, “You actually started me in mountain climbing and in getting out.” So yeah, that’s another good thing. And if they get out there they see, son of a bitch, this is a beautiful planet.

A: How about Everest today? Is there one thing you would change about it?

J.W.: I think they are going to have to limit the climbers on the mountain. And you hope that the guide services over there are not just doing it for money and are cautious enough and smart enough to handle their climbs carefully. If you’ve been given $65,000 and this guy wants to climb it, you really feel obligated. But you gotta know when to turn back. If you climb a few mountains before you go, then you learn the mountain will still be there. And it’s good to turn back sometimes.

There are now three guide services on Rainier, but they all have limitations. They can only take 25 clients a day up on the mountain. So it limits the number of people who are going up and down. And I think they are going to have to do that on Everest because it get incredibly dangerous.

Leif, my son, waited for an hour up there, because there are several narrow sections that are a bottleneck, and people are stumbling down and so forth. So there are going to have to be some controls. There are people from all over the world who want to climb it. I think there is going to have to be some kind of reservation system.

A: What’s something surprising about you?

J.W.: I love ice cream. I like a mix of vanilla and mint chocolate chip. Isn’t that good?

And I love my wife, and these days that’s a little unusual. We just had our 30th anniversary. We’re an endangered species.

A: Playing devil’s advocate here: Why does it matter if people feel connected to the outdoors or not?

J.W.: If children, and then as adults, know a little bit about nature or get out into it, then they really like it. And then they’ll really develop a love for it. And if they love it, they will take care of it. Mother Earth needs a little taking care of. People need to get out of those concrete, brick, and glass canyons of the cities. If they enjoy the outdoors then they’ll pass that love on to their children and on to their children’s children. You don’t vote for something that you don’t know.

A: How do we get more kids and people outdoors?

J.W.: Your National Geographic television programs are good because they show nature, and people might look at that and say, I’d like to do that. I think the Boy Scouts were always good. But I don’t think they do a lot in the outdoors in the big cities. Central Park is New York City is amazing. And the New York Times has done some really good stuff trying to get the little local lots to turn them into natural areas. Just a little vacant lot can become a place where kids can see what trees are. I bet they can’t even name two different kinds of trees.

In the past, that was our life. That was what we did. You just don’t want to lose that. I think if you can bring some nature into the city, fine, but if you can’t, you’re going to have to get the kids out. There are a lot of outdoor programs that get people out. And then educating them through magazines and stuff like that. Ed Viesturs, who has climbed all the 8,000-meter peaks, was motivated by reading a couple books as a kid. So books and magazines, we gotta educate them.

I’m leaving it to you, Mary Anne. You have to educate the bastards. You wonder how are we going to save the planet, right?

A: We gotta get them outside. I know! I’ll try to help.

All African-American Team Takes on Denali – Why It Matters

James Mills — Thu, 09 May 2013 18:01:37 +0000

Expedition Denali Short from Distill Productions, LLC on Vimeo.

I’ve been told it shouldn’t matter. But as one in a handful of black professionals in the outdoor recreation industry, I can’t help being wildly excited. In June the first team of African-American climbers will attempt to reach the summit of Alaska’s Mount McKinley, the tallest peak in North America. Also known as Denali, at 20,328 feet this mountain is literally the highest physical point anyone can achieve in the United States. And as metaphors go, it is the ultimate realization of the dream Martin Luther King Jr. outlined in the 1963 speech that followed his historic march on Washington.

“I have a dream today,” he said, “that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight.”

The Expedition Denali team; Photograph courtesy NOLS

Called Expedition Denali, this climb marks the first time a team made up of black men and women will aspire to stand at the very top of North America. And though many African-American alpinists have reached the summit over the years since it was first climbed in 1913, Expedition Denali is a bold statement meant to inspire a new generation of all races and ethnicities, particularly minority youth, to travel out into the natural world in search of adventure—and join in the movement to help protect it. Organized by the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) this project aims to encourage under represented members of the population to seek recreation experiences outdoors as well as career opportunities in service of the environment.

But in our “post-racial” society there are those who believe that initiatives like Expedition Denali are unnecessary and not even noteworthy. After having come so far as nation to rise above our tragic past of racial discrimination and prejudice, many wonder how a climb distinguished by race can be a significant accomplishment in modern mountaineering.

In an effort to help me discover the history of black climbers who had made it to the summit, a friend posted a query on two climbing website forums: “Does anyone out there know who the first African-American to summit Denali was?”

The discussion, which lasted for several days, was filled with comments from climbers who share a common belief: When it comes to mountaineering race doesn’t matter. And some even questioned the logic of inspiring young people by proving them with role models who share their ethnic heritage. Several respondents asserted that an effort like Expedition Denali was itself racially divisive. But there were at least a few who seem to recognize the central point of the issue.

“In a perfect world it doesn’t matter,” wrote marc801 on RockClimbing.com, “but we are involved in a sport/endeavor that has a severe lack of Afro-ethnicity participants. Look at all those triumphant summit photos over the years of the big peaks with the proud ascentionists and I fear you’ll probably have enough fingers to count the number of Afro-origin climbers in those photos.”

That lack of participation is the problem. It’s not a question of whether or not African-Americans can climb high mountains. What matters is as group we tend not to. And for a variety of different social and cultural reasons the world of mountaineering has been relegated almost exclusively to white men. Without any deliberate effort to prevent blacks and other minorities from becoming involved in the sport, the number non-white participants is conspicuously low. The organizers of Expedition Denali merely hope to change that by introducing a new narrative into the mix and perhaps redefine what it means to be a climber.

“When you think about the story that mountaineering has been it’s been predominantly white male,” said Expedition Denali team member Erica Wynn. “If a little black girl were to look into mountaineering and hear that single story she would probably say I don’t have much of a place there, or the odds are against me. I hope that Expedition Denali and being a part of this helps to change that story.”

This initiative aims to demonstrate that despite so few current participants people of color do indeed have a place in this world of adventure. Upon their successful return from Denali each of the team members will go back to their respective communities across the country and share that message of inclusion. Connecting directly with young people of color in particular the Expedition Denali team will serve as role models who share many of the same life experiences and aspirations for the future. This national outreach initiative will include the distribution of feature-length documentary film and a non-fiction account of the climb to be published by the Mountaineers Books.

In answer to my query online I discovered that the first African-American to climb Denali was a Boeing engineer from Seattle named Charles M. Crenchaw. Part of the 1964 McKinley Expedition Crenchaw made it to the top of America the same year the Civil Rights Amendment was signed into law. At a time in this country when millions of African-Americans were denied the right vote as well as many other liberties we take for granted one man took it upon himself to fulfill his own dream in the world of climbing. Crenchaw would go on to climb Denali again the following year and through his career he also summited Mount Rainer, Aconcagua and several other notable peaks. He was a member of the Seattle Mountaineers as well as the American Alpine Club having served on the board of each for many years. Crenchaw died in 1998, well regarded by his friends and fellow climbers in Seattle. But with no children of his own he passed away quietly with no one to share his legacy so that future generations might be inspired by not only his courage as a climber but the contributions he made to the mountaineering community as a whole.

The obligation and privilege to share Crenchaw’s story now falls to me. As a journalist and supporter of diversity in outdoor recreation I have the rare opportunity to impart upon aspiring adventurers young and old the knowledge that they are part of a great tradition of mountaineering that continues through this day. Expedition Denali is the next chapter in an ongoing story that truly matters.

Learn more about Expedition Denali and their Kickstarter fund.

The Joy Trip Project is made possible with the support sponsors Patagonia, Rayovac and the New Belgium Brewing Company

The Powder Highway Road Trip – Dispatch #7 – Haines, Alaska (Video + Photos)

Bruce J. Bauer — Wed, 08 May 2013 22:08:57 +0000

See previous dispatches >>

A cold, dark winter subsides as the days grow longer and the sun’s rays intensify. The inevitable change in seasons triggers an innate response in all living creatures—bears awake from hibernation, birds take flight, and fish swim upstream. Migration is a matter of survival for certain animal species while select humans prefer to make it a way of life.

Haines, Alaska; Photograph by Will Wissman

When the snow melts in the Lower 48, passionate skiers and snowboarders travel northward in search of cold, deep snow. Instinct and passion supersede rational thoughts. I know this because, as a commercial fisherman in Alaska, I have followed my own migration for 32 years. My livelihood depends on spontaneous decisions based on intuition and ever-changing conditions. Chasing large schools of fish into the Bering Sea during a violent Pacific storm challenges conventional wisdom, but I have always believed in chasing my dreams.

Skier Hayden Price in Haines, Alaska; Photograph by Will Wissman

Similarly I recognize and admire the dedication amongst the team of skiers and snowboarders that have been chasing their dreams along the Powder Highway this winter.

For the past two months, I have following this nomadic tribe of mountain people, recognizing familiar faces likes Reggie and Zach Crist along with Wyatt and Yancy Caldwell as well as Lynsey Dyer, Lexi Dupont, Jamey Parks, Leo Ahrens, Colter Hinchcliff. There are even a few new names I have yet to meet including Jacqui Edgerly, Hayden Price, and Sam Cohen. It seems that their travel plans and destinations are always changing, but as the season progresses I know they will eventually migrate northward to Haines, the frontier of Alaska heli-skiing where the road ends and the ocean and the mountains collide.

Sam Cohen in Haines, Alaska; Photograph by Will Wissman

Some team members arrive by airplane while others travel by ferry, car, and even a motorcycle. One by one, each person finds his or her way up the Funny Farm driveway, reunited at our beautiful three-story lodge that everyone affectionately calls home.

Erradic pieces from a complicated and diverse puzzle, we are all part of the same clan, a family that looks after one another. This was made clear to me four years ago when I was diagnosed with cancer and Reggie Crist organized a benefit to raise money for my treatments. Eddie Bauer matched the proceeds raised on that night.

Our tribe is many, including Nick and Kami Trimble, owners of the Fort Seward Lodge, along with the entire SEABA guide staff lead by Scott Sundberg. Collectively we work together to preserve and strengthen the annual migration knowing full well that as one season ends another begins.

Yancy Caldwell in Haines, Alaska; Photograph by Will Wissman

About the Powder Highway Road Trip
There is nothing like a good road trip to set the mind free. “Hitting the open road in search of adventure is a part of the American Dream,” said Pat Bauman, an original member of the K2 Performers. In the early 1970s, Bauman teamed up with local Sun Valley skiers—John Clendenin, Charley McWilliams, Jim Stelling—to tour the country in a flashy, red-white-and-blue motor home with the intent of showing people just how much fun it can be to strap a pair of skis to your feet. Inspired by this original band of skiers, a new generation of Eddie Bauer guides and athletes start their own road trip and head north into Canada to search for perfect conditions along the infamous Powder Highway.

See previous dispatches >>

Lessons From Conquering a Couloir

Avery Stonich — Tue, 07 May 2013 06:49:08 +0000

Climbers on S Couloir in Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado; Photograph by Terry Stonich

The other weekend, I climbed my first couloir. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure what a couloir was. I knew it was a mountain feature—but I figured it was somewhere in the realm of too extreme for me.

I’ve always been intimated by technical mountaineering. So how did I find myself in the backcountry of Rocky Mountain National Park attempting such a thing in late April after a storm dumped more than three feet of snow? Well, I signed up for a mountaineering class to get my butt in gear for my upcoming attempt to climb Mont Blanc in Chamonix, France.

It turns out a couloir is a deep gully on a mountainside—a great training ground. And it was awesome. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it was all peaches and cream and kittens. It was challenging. But that’s the point.

I’m bound to learn a few lessons as I tackle this new hobby.

Lesson #1: You have to deal with what the mountain gives you.

Confession alert: I’m a bit of a fair-weather hiker, biker, camper, skier, whatever. If it looks like it’s going to rain, be freezing, or blow a gale, I’d rather not go. But when you sign up for a mountaineering class (or a mountain climb), you have to suck it up. It’s going to get uncomfortable at times.

When we started out, the wind was howling. We were snowshoeing into 50 mpg gusts that nearly knocked me off my feet. The wind chill made it feel like the South Pole. “Get over it, “ I said. “You are not going to wimp out just because of a little wind.”

Lesson #2: Be prepared to not achieve your objective. But don’t give up too soon.

Given the wind, our guides warned us that we might not be able to do the climb. We’d have to wait and see. I have to admit, a few times during the approach, when the wind was hitting me head on and I was freezing, I wondered if I was cut out for this sort of thing. But I told myself to dig deep and stick with it.

Lesson #3: It’s mind over matter in the mountains.

At the base of the climb, I looked up in awe at the craggy slopes surrounding us. “Where are we going,” I asked. The guide pointed toward an impossibly steep slope with so much snow and rock, I couldn’t see how we would ascend it. Then my mental yoga kicked in. I could have gotten really worked up, catapulting to fearful thoughts of what was ahead. Instead, I chose to take one moment, one breath, one step at a time. All I did was think about putting one foot in front of another. It’s a pretty good lesson for just about anything in life.

Lesson #4: It’s really hard to pee on the side of a steep slope wearing a harness—with guys around.

When it was time to take off our snowshoes, we stomped out a platform on the steep slope and took a rest. I can’t say it was relaxing. I was filled with nervous energy. The wind tossed clouds of snow into our faces. And I had to pee—out in the open, on a slope, in the freezing cold, with four guys standing right next to me. And I was wearing a harness. To say it was awkward is putting it mildly.

I shimmied my way to one end of the group. The harness made it exceedingly difficult to drop my drawers. The pack on my back threw me off balance. And the wind whipped snow in my mouth and threatened to blow you know what all over the place. Suffice to say, it made me want to intentionally dehydrate myself in order to avoid having to do it again. Although that would be stupid. Dehydration and mountaineering don’t get along.

Lesson #5: Mountains bring you into the moment.

Then the going got serious. Thank goodness for my ice axe. I never knew how handy it could be. As we climbed, the gully steepened, the rocks closed in on either side, and I felt like I was living and breathing the mountain. I became part of the couloir. I felt so alive and immersed in the moment. Kick, step, ice axe, rest. Kick, step, ice axe, rest. I could think of nothing but the objective before me. What a way to clear the head!

Lesson #6: When the going gets tough, your soul starts to sing.

When the terrain became more exposed, we roped up. There were a few places where we had to go on belay and use protection while we navigated dicey terrain. In one particularly perplexing spot, the guide really had to think about how to crawl around a rock outcropping surrounded by super soft snow. He disappeared around the corner in front of me and placed an anchor into the rock. I stepped out over a big snow bank and tried to dig in my feet, my hands, and my ice axe. Nothing would grab. The slope dropped at a 60-degree angle. I felt vulnerable and exposed. I could have frozen in fear, but instead, I reached for inner strength and mental calm and carefully picked my way to safety, confident that if I fell, one of my climbing partners would catch me.

Just a little bit farther, we topped out on flat ground. What a rush! I felt such a satisfying, exhilarating feeling of accomplishment as I peered down the steep gully and took in the sweeping mountain vista around me.

Lesson #7: The thrill of accomplishment makes it all worthwhile.

The day was amazing, exciting, uncomfortable, tiring, and inspiring. I had to get up before dawn, fumble with a bunch of unfamiliar equipment, push myself physically and mentally, face adversity, dig deep for courage, and place my trust in a guide I barely knew. In the end, I discovered that not only can I accomplish something challenging that I’ve never tried before, I can have a lot of fun doing it.

I set my sights on Mont Blanc to learn something new—and I don’t just mean mountaineering. I want to learn more about myself—how do I cope with this sort of risk and danger? Do I have what it takes to endure physical discomfort in pursuit of a goal? I’ve always been adventurous. But can I push myself a little harder and a little farther, put myself in a scary situation, and come out the other side stronger, more confident, and empowered?

Something tells me I can. I’m pretty sure this experience is going to be thrilling, plus a little unnerving. But I have a feeling this journey will take me to new and exciting places in the great outdoors—as well as within my own heart. What adventure are you going to undertake this year?

Avery Stonich is communications manager for Outdoor Industry Association. Follow us on Twitter: @OIA and @averystonich.

5Point’s Prize-Winning Films Reflect the Spirit of the Festival

James Mills — Mon, 06 May 2013 13:13:50 +0000

Top prize winners at the 2013 5Point Film Festival set the tone for an exciting spring season of adventure. The long journey of solo explorer Kyle Dempster in the movie The Road From Karakol took the Best of the Fest award. The compelling feature showed viewers the importance of vulnerability in the face of adversity, an underestimated instinct that’s at the heart of any great expedition. Striped bare of clothing to cross a raging river in the opening frames and throughout the film Dempster reveals of himself far more than his skin.

“He wasn’t just naked on camera,” said director Fitz Cahall as he accepted the award. Cahall and his team did a masterful edit of 20-plus hours of footage to create an intimate portrait of Dempster, a two-time winner of climbing’s prestigious Piolets d’Or award. Seamlessly woven into a riveting narrative from head-mounted camera shots, the movie follows his bicycle and mountaineering trek through the former Soviet Union nation of Kyrgyzstan. Cold, wet, miserable, full of fear, joyful, and never so glad to be alive, Dempster leads the audience on a roller-coaster ride of emotion that’s thrilling to watch because it’s so raw and real. “We fell in love with him,” said Cahall.

These graphic portrayals of adventurers in action are the soul of the 5Point Experience. Captured on film and displayed in pure expressions of ecstasy on mountain bikes, skis, kayaks, running shoes and horseback these stories inspire members of the audience to look within themselves and seek out adventures of their own.

Cascada, winner of the prize for Best Cinematography, transports the audience along a whitewater highway through a Mexican jungle. Narrated and directed by filmmaker Anson Fogel, the movie opens the mind to infinite possibilities as paddlers charge their boats over roaring waterfalls into a churning abyss hundreds of feet below.

“I look around and see everyone doing precisely what they love to do,” Fogel says in the film. “Athletes, artists, the line between to two is gone now. Every moment, each day is perfect.”

But the human spirit is charged not just with adrenalin. Often viewers are made to experience the agonizing loss of each main character as they struggle through the quite desperation of failure. Fogel took an additional prize for Creative Excellence in the film Death of the Bar T. Without a word of dialog the story of an old rancher unfolds in a dazzling display of imagery that illustrates the hard and precarious life of men and women of the West who work the land. Under foreclosure by the bank generations of hopes and dreams are stripped away to leave the rancher and the audience with an uncertain future and an ambiguous ending that literally goes up in flames.

True to the 5Point experience each film carries with it an element of triumph no matter how dire the circumstances. Winner of the Most Inspiring award, All That I Am, tells the story of disabled athlete Aaron Baker. After a devastating motorcycle accident leaves him a quadriplegic, Baker defies the odds to reclaim his life and become a competitive cyclist.

“It’s the culmination of a lot of the blood sweat, fears, and tears, literally. Rebuilding my body, redefining myself from complete paralysis,” he says in the film. “I’ve never been happier in my entire life than right now.”

That struggle against the hurdles life throws in our path can be made to define who we are in life or help us to reveal the person we most want to become. And when we choose the road less traveled we consciously decide to put our very existence to the test.

The film Crossing the Ice set two Australian adventurers on the path to ski unsupported from the edge of Antarctica to the South Pole and back. Hoping to become the first to achieve such an amazing feat covering more than 1,400 miles the main characters Cas and Jonesy suddenly find themselves facing an even greater challenge as they’re plunged into a race to the bottom of the world with the more experienced Norwegian explorer Alex Gamme. Taking the prize for Spirit of Adventure as well as the People’s Choice award “Crossing The Ice” is a marvel of human endurance, perseverance and sportsmanship.

In a four-day program of more than 40 films 5Point is truly an experience to enrapture both the mind and spirit. Captivated by characters, each more sympathetic than the last, the audience can’t help but see something of themselves in every story. Curated with the diabolic intention to thump the heart and the lift soul this year’s collection of films is a testament to the unquenchable human desire to dream big, travel far and aspire well beyond our vision.

The Joy Trip Project is made possible with the support sponsors Patagonia, Rayovac and the New Belgium Brewing Company

Video: 50 Years on Everest – Climbers’ Candid Thoughts on the State of the World’s Tallest Peak

Mary Anne Potts — Wed, 01 May 2013 11:33:22 +0000

On this day 50 years ago, May 1, 1963, Jim Whittaker became the first American to stand atop Everest, a feat which made him a national hero. A few weeks later, May 22, Tom Hornbein and Willi Unsoeld made the daring first ascent of the West Ridge and the first traverse of the peak, electrifying the climbing world. A true spirit of exploration and adventure thrived on that first American expedition, and their ascents are credited with sparking an interest in mountaineering and the outdoors among Americans like never before.

Fast forward 50 years and the magnificent peak still captures the imagination of the world, but much has changed in our human presence there. We had the opportunity to ask the people who know Everest best—current climbers and guides, sages from the 1963 American team, and members of the Sherpa community—for their candid thoughts on the state of the rooftop of the world.

Featuring
Conrad Anker
Melissa Arnot
Brent Bishop
Dave Dingman
Norman Dyhrenfurth
Tom Hornbein
Dave Morton
Norbu Tenzing Norgay
Cory Richards
Mingmar Dorgi Sherpa
Jim Whittaker

We will continue to explore the state of Everest. Writer and climber Mark Jenkins‘s full feature story will appear in the June 2013 edition of National Geographic magazine.

A special thanks to the American Alpine Club for their support of this project.

Traversing Costa Rica by Foot, Bike, and Paddle

Payge McMahon — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 23:07:44 +0000

Heredia-Cypresal-Volcán Barva-Vara Blanca-Poasito-Heredia 80 kilometers; Photograph by Zero Kelvin/Tico, Flickr

“I forgot to pack my underwear, but I brought a headlamp!” said Winnie.

By now we had known each other five days. We were in a remote, Costa Rican jungle and I couldn’t help but laugh at my new Swedish friend and expedition mate. Her parents named her after the loveable children’s character and bear, Winnie-the-Pooh. It was appropriate. Adventurous souls have the perfect mix of Pooh-like characteristics—loving life and appreciating their surroundings—along with enthusiasm modeled after the tiger character Tigger, who has bounce in his step and sees the best in every situation.

When I had a week and a half off, and Costa Rica seemed like a good option. So did a did a Google for a unique experience that would allow me to see the country away from the big cities and beach resorts. I found Coast-to-Coast Adventures and their signature 12-day Coast-to-Coast trip that traverses Costa Rica, 234 kilometers (145 miles), from the Pacific to the Atlantic Coasts, all by hiking, mountain biking, rafting, and kayaking. The actual physical adventure would take just eight days, with a few days on each end of the trip for rendezvous, rest, and travel. Further, Coast-to-Coast Adventures provided the bikes, rafts, kayaks, guides, food, and handled the logistics. All I had to do was show up with a sleeping bag, sleeping pad and move. Awesome!

Our small expedition team included me, Winnie, our four teammates–a pair of Canadians and Norwegians–and two friendly, knowledgeable guides, Maurice and Juan Carlos. Each of us had varying levels of experience hiking, mountain biking, and kayaking. Our ages ranged from 34 to 58 years young.

The 234-kilometer Coast-to-Coast Adventure is rated as this company’s most difficult and physically challenging trip. I quickly learned that they were not kidding. It is not hard in the ‘technical’ sense, but you need to be in good physical condition and know how to ride a bike.

Day 1 – Mount Up

It is on the Pacific Coast, in the town of Quepos, next to the popular resort town of Manuel Antonio, we started our coast-to-coast adventure. On mountain bikes, we cycled paved roads out of the little bustling town and onto a single-track dirt road, surrounded by lush, green forest. After 25km (16 miles) and lunch by a beautiful waterfall, our bikes were loaded onto a support vehicle. The afternoon was spent trekking 14km (9 miles) up 800 meters (2,600 feet) through backcountry, over a ridge and then down into a picturesque valley where we camped in tents on the village soccer field in Naranjillo.

Days 2 – We Climb

The next day, we hiked out of Naranjillo and up “Cemetery Hill,” a steep and strenuous 13km (8 miles) ascent up another 800 meters to an elevation of 1,600m (5,200 feet). It was a great leg workout. Our support vehicle magically appeared over the hill along with our bikes and a bountiful picnic lunch of chicken, tortillas and fresh fruit. That afternoon we cycled on paved roads to the small town of Santa Maria where we spent the night in cozy bungalows with Wi-Fi!

Days 3 & 4 – Up & Over the Continental Divide

Over the next couple days we rode, and for some of us this included pushing and carrying, our mountain bikes 100km (62 miles), up and over the continental divide, the Talamanca and Central mountain ranges. We traveled through the beautiful Orosi Valley, lush coffee fields, and forest into the Reventazon Valley, sugarcane plantations and over the Pejibaye River into Turrialba. At night we camped in parks.

Unlike the rest of our group, Winnie and I lacked true mountain biking experience and because of this, some sections in this adventure were really hard. We knew how to ride a bike, but climbing up steep mountain inclines to an elevation of 2,400 meters (7,900 feet) and navigating off-road, dusty, hole-riddled declines, (we affectionately dubbed, ‘vertical death descents’) well, turns out those variables make a difference. For the other members of our group, it was mountain biking heaven.

I fell twice and Winnie once. By the time we made it to Turrialba we had varying degrees of abrasions on our knees, hands, elbows and shoulders. In the towns, when anyone asked about them, we said they were the result of a ‘jaguar attack.’ It sounded way cooler.

We did not quit. Thanks to our sheer stubbornness and patient guides we got through it. They kept us motivated and laughing all the way.

Days 5 & 6 – To the River & Rest

Thankfully, the last day on our mountain bikes was only 25km (16 miles) on paved roads going downhill to La Cruz, the whitewater rafting “put in” on the Pacuare River. I gladly turned in my bike for an oar and lifejacket.

No rest for the weary, the big, blue raft was launched into raging class III and IV rapids. People have died in these intense waters and everyone stayed alert. By afternoon we reach the banks of El Nido del Tigre (Tiger’s Nest) and our home for the next two days.

The Tiger’s Nest is a remote jungle oasis, owned by the adventure travel company. Platform tents with cozy, foam mattresses line the riverbank and an impressive open, two-story hut sits in the middle of the property and its manicured lawns. The hut has a kitchen and dining area on the bottom and a ‘lounge’ area with hammocks, couch, chairs and board games up top. Walkways link the tents to the common area and to the clean, open, yet private, toilets and showers.

In the past five days, we had hiked 27km (17 miles) mostly uphill, and cycled 180km (112 miles). We spent our downtime hiking, reading, sleeping or lounging in hammocks trading stories. It was here I found myself explaining to Winnie the American term ‘going commando’ (without underwear).

Day 7 – We Raft

Our last day on the raft was filled with intermittent class II-IV whitewater rapids surrounded by trees, monkeys, birds and waterfalls. We landed the raft in Finca Pacuarito and hiked through banana plantation to our last campsite.

Day 8 – Kayaking to Sweet, Salty, Success

It rained throughout the night and into the morning. It made for a great sleep. At 6am, wet, excited and paired up on kayaks with packed lunches and snacks we paddled the last part of the Pacuare River to the Caribbean Sea. Six and a half hours, sore arms and 40km (25 miles) later, we heard the sweet sound of crashing waves and saw the ocean. We did it!

Some say that where a river and ocean transition, it is a spiritual place. It felt magical. Maybe it was just the rewarding sense of accomplishment. We crossed Costa Rica, in actuality going 258-kilometers (160-miles), all by our own physical power. The distance difference didn’t matter. On this isolated beach, just south of Caño Blanco, we hugged, cheered and celebrated with champagne!

Established in 1996 by Canadian Mike Laplevic, Coast-to-Coast Adventures is based in San Jose, Costa Rica. Twenty dedicated employees design, organize and run multi-activity travel within Costa Rica, Panama and nearby Nicaragua. Their goal is to assist adventurers in exceeding their expectations while connecting with nature and the elements. For more information: www.ctocadventures.com

Good News: The Outdoor Industry Has Infiltrated Washington, D.C.

Avery Stonich — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 14:07:30 +0000

Arches National Park, Utah; Photograph by Wayne Spivak, Your Shot

Last week, Sally Jewell—former CEO of REI—took the helm as the new Secretary of the U.S. Department of the Interior. This is great news for everyone who likes to hike, bike, run, ski, fish, paddle, climb, or explore the outdoors in any way. Why you should care? I’ll tell you.

The Department of the Interior, or DOI, oversees 500 million acres—approximately 20 percent of America, including our national parks, national wildlife refuges, Bureau of Land Management lands, and more. How many times have you enjoyed an adventure on these lands? I bet many! Secretary Jewell is now in charge of managing these, as well as the department’s 70,000+ employees. Suffice to say, it’s a pretty big job.

As with any political office, the Secretary of the Interior faces a delicate balancing act, juggling many interests. This is why we’re so pleased to have one of our own in this important position. Under Jewell’s watch, the DOI is poised to recognize outdoor recreation as a leading use of public lands—one that creates tremendous economic value.

The DOI website summarizes their mission this way: “The U.S. Department of the Interior protects America’s natural resources and heritage, honors our cultures and tribal communities, and supplies the energy to power our future.”

Notice that last part, about supplying energy to power our future. It’s been a pretty big focus of the DOI over the years, which is all fine and good. Of course we should harvest our nation’s energy resources. After all, DOI lands are rich with oil and gas resources that generate significant revenue for the government while also providing domestic energy for our growing population.

The trouble is, until recently, no one has given much more than a passing glance to how important outdoor recreation is to our economy. But by paying heed to the first part of the mission—protecting America’s natural resources and heritage—we can support a heck of a lot of jobs, and good-paying sustainable jobs at that—in technology, product design, manufacturing, sustainability, retail, global commerce, public land management, and more.

With Jewell in charge of the DOI, we are better positioned to spread the message that our nation’s public lands and waters are foundational to outdoor recreation and the economy.

Jewell brings a plethora of great experience to the table. As CEO of REI, she managed a $2 billion company that is as committed to protecting outdoor recreation experiences as it is to making and selling great products. Before that, she worked as an oil and gas engineer and financier. Wow. What a combo! It’s not often that we get a DOI official with such a broad and unique perspective. She has the chops to understand the opportunities and challenges facing the DOI, particularly as recreation lands are disproportionately targeted for budget cuts.

Jewell’s appointment is a big deal because it shows that leaders in Washington are starting to get it. Like Senator Wyden said during Jewell’s confirmation hearing: “The economics of public lands have changed. Recreation has become a big business, and it will be good for the economy if it grows bigger. To do that, the department will need to give more attention to the opportunities that recreation on public lands provides for businesses than it has in the past.”

Outdoor recreation resources are renewable and can continue to sustain economic dividends for years to come. Just what sort of dividends? I’m talking about the $646 billion in consumer spending that outdoor recreation generates each year. And 6.1 million sustainable American jobs (more than twice as many as the oil and gas industry). And nearly $80 billion in annual tax revenue. These are big numbers. And they deserve significant consideration when choosing how to manage our public lands and waters.

When people play outside, their spending goes right back into the economy.

Want to help spread the word? Download Outdoor Industry Association’s Outdoor Recreation Economy Report. Also get our recreation economy data for the state where you live. Take this to your federal, state and local decision makers and use it to make a case for why they should protect the outdoor places where you and many other Americans get outside and play. You depend on it—and so do the communities, businesses, and families that make their livelihoods from outdoor recreation.

Avery Stonich is communications manager for Outdoor Industry Association. Follow us on Twitter: @OIA and @averystonich.

Antarctica: Exploring the Frozen Frontier

Freddie Wilkinson — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 15:16:39 +0000

Photographer Cory Richards coming up behind the team near the summit on Bertha’s Tower. Photograph by Mike Libecki

Pick up the September 2013 edition of National Geographic to read writer Freddie Wilkinson’s feature story about this expedition.

Queen Maud Land—the adventure starts in sun-soaked South Africa in late spring.

On the evening of November 11, 2012, a little after dinner hours, a group of men steadily forms in the back corner of the departures terminal of the Cape Town International Airport. Most are clad casually, in blue jeans and windbreakers, work pants and ski jackets. Some might be oil riggers flying home after a work stint, others lawyers, off on a ski holiday. If you were rushing by to make boarding call, you wouldn’t give them a second glance …

… but if you looked twice, you might notice the backpacks and pelican cases—and the high-topped, over-sized duck boots tucked conspicuously under everyone’s arms. Our four-man team of Mike Libecki, Cory Richards, Keith Ladzinski, and I joined them and checked in for flight # YRY9173, or “D1”, shorthand for Dromlan 1, the first jet plane of the season to land on the blue ice runway near Schirmacher Oasis, Novolazarevskaya Station, Antarctica.

Looking down on Cory Richards and Freddie Wilkinson at a portaledge high camp 1,200 feet up Bertha’s Tower during the first ascent, named after Mike Libecki’s grandmother Bertha, who always encouraged him to follow his dreams of exploration and climbing. Photograph by Mike Libecki

The rough aestheticism of frontier life has always attracted strong personalities. Over the next six weeks, I came to know my companions very well. We laughed like billy goats and swore like sailors as we explored a range of razor summits in the Wolthat Mountains of Queen Maud Land. At each turn in our journey, the latent physical power of the landscape dictated every aspect of our lives.

We returned to Cape Town on December 21, having consumed approximately 200 kilograms in food weight, destroyed three tents, climbed two new routes to likely unclimbed summits, and made a ski circumnavigation of the range to further explore.

The team’s route on Bertha’s Tower went right up the steepest part,
right on the arete where the white rock meets gold rock. Photograph by Mike Libecki

This was team leader Mike Libecki’s third trip to the mountains of East Antarctica, and it did not disappoint.

“The rock we climbed on seemed to be created by Dr. Seuss himself,” Libecki writes. “My previous trips there were simply stepping stones that led to this incredible challenge of wind, cold, and the wildest rock features and formations I have climbed on.”

One key difference: the Wolthat Mountains are located approximately 150 kilometers east of the more popularly visited Fenris area around Ulvetanna, and subject to frequent blasts of katabatic winds. “For some reason, this region of the Wolthats serves as a major tunnel for winds coming off the polar plateau. It set the tone for an entire expedition of hard work and surreal beauty.”

Mike Libecki’s self portrait on the summit of Bertha’s Tower, taken in his tradition bringing a mask for the current Chinese Zodiac mask—in this case the Year of the Dragon—on each expedition. Photograph by Mike Libecki

Libecki continues: “I would like to send bow-down, ultimate appreciation and thanks to the team, all of our family, friends, supporters, including the National Geographic Society and the NG Expeditions Council, as well as the Polartec Challenge Grant and the Copp-Dash Inspire Award. It was not just our team of four that succeeded and climbed these towers, it was also hundreds of other people who made this possible, and I appreciate this with all of my heart and soul. We would not have stepped out the door without countless people and their time and energy.”

Pick up the September 2013 edition of National Geographic to read writer Freddie Wilkinson’s feature story about this expedition.

Route Info:

Bertha’s Tower: 5.11R A3+ Grade VI
(Libecki, Wilkinson, Richards, Ladzinski)

Grammie Hannah’s Tower: 5.6 2000+ feet.
(Libecki, Richards, Wilkinson, Ladzinski)

Saving the Colorado, America’s Most Endangered River – Video + Interview with Pete McBride

Emily Nuchols — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 17:24:29 +0000

When we think of the Colorado River, we think of its power and its beauty, running from the rugged peaks of the Rocky Mountains and twisting, turning, and splashing through seven western states and two countries. The Colorado River carved the Grand Canyon—a symbol as iconic to the United States as the bald eagle or the Statue of Liberty. The Colorado sustains more than 30 million people in the Southwest alone with food, water, and power, not to mention the wildlife and fish, and millions of other people who eat food from the basin and flock to its waters or stand in awe atop the rim of the Grand Canyon. But this signature river is running dry from our excessive thirst for its waters and power. So much so, the Colorado River no longer reaches the sea.

Today, American Rivers released its annual list of America’s Most Endangered Rivers, and the river at the top—the most endangered river in the nation—is the mighty Colorado. A century of water management policies and practices promoting wasteful water use have put the river at a critical crossroads.

In conjunction with the Most Endangered Rivers report, filmmaker and photographer Pete McBride released a short film to help tell the story of the endangered Colorado River. The footage he used is pulled from his award-winning film, Chasing Water. In Chasing Water, Pete set out to document the flow of the Colorado River from source to sea.

We caught up with Pete this week to ask him a few questions about the Colorado River and how we can all lend a hand to save this precious resource…

Adventure: How did you become interested in the Colorado River?

Pete McBride: I grew in Colorado on the river, using it daily—irrigating our hayfields on our family ranch, swimming in it, drinking it, etc. I even learned to fish and boat on its tributaries. I guess I’ve intrinsically been interested in the river by upbringing and birth. But it wasn’t until a few years ago, after I’d seen much of the world working on assignment as an adventure photographer, that the demands on our rivers and the plight of global fresh water were becoming more concerning, that it occurred to me how remarkably unique and important the Colorado River system is.

A: How did your project—both the book and the film—get started? And how have you continued that work?

PM: By coincidence, I was assigned a short magazine story for National Geographic Adventure to cover Jon Waterman’s source to sea paddle. I decided to do the story with an aerial perspective since I am lucky that my father, John, is a passionate bush pilot (I hired him at cost which he kindly agreed to). After only a few flights, I quickly realized that this was a very big, important story, much larger than just a magazine story. It has since evolved into dozens of magazine stories, a book, a film, a museum exhibit and ongoing lectures.

A: Many environmental issues, especially issues this large, can be depressing or overwhelming for some. How do you stay inspired? How do you hope to inspire and motivate others?

PM: When I give talks on the subject, I often remind people that I am not an expert, neither a lawyer, a scientist or a hydrologist by training, just a curious citizen who cares about his backyard river. So if I can raise awareness, anyone can and that is the key. My hope is that combining beautiful imagery and a human story around a tough subject, will help the public become more inspired to understand the issue and become more active. We Americans are all users of the Colorado River—even if you live in New York, you eat the Colorado River when you bite into a salad—so we all need to become more cognizant of it and our watersheds as a whole. That is the first step, I believe, to restoring a river so many love and cherish, is getting the public more engaged.

A: Why should Americans outside of the Colorado Basin care about what’s happening on the Colorado?

PM: In addition to food production that all Americans enjoy (all U.S. winter lettuce and carrot production comes from the Basin) recreation is a huge economic engine that affects many nationwide. A recent study of the Basin’s recreation value produced a staggering figure. Recreation activities from National Parks, boating, fishing, picnicking, etc bring in 26 billion dollars annually. That puts the CO River ahead of Progressive Insurance and US Airways on any Forbes list. So there is value to our national economy as a result of this river—not just as a plumbing network, but flowing.

On a more philosophical level, I think it is a national and international treasure and it is good for our collective soul to know it exists and is sustained in its entirety as a viable, flowing river.

A: If you could get everyone in the U.S. to do one thing to help the Colorado, what would that be?

PM: Get involved on any level no matter how big or small. Whether that is writing your political leaders or smart-scaping your front yard (using less water intensive plants and shrubs versus standard front lawns) or just turning off your faucet when you brush your teeth, that is a start. Pocket books can play a huge role too. For instance, local agriculture that supports water conservation can play a role. Basically, our fresh water is a limited a resource and the Colorado River is an example of what happens when we ask too much—it disappears. If we don’t get involved on some level, we will [see] more of that resource vanish.

[And then at the end] To learn more about what you can do to help, please visit American Rivers’ website.