Return to Everest
In the Himalayan foothills,
Kathmandu long has beena crossroads
its streets and holy places filled with travellers enroute
to a thousand destinations many may never reach.
Watchedby the gods, some go to marketto sellor buy,
some seek to earn a higher form in their next reincarnation,
some climb the steep steps to Nirvana,
hoping to escape the tumult ofdaily life.
Sometimes the destinations are only disguised beginnings.
For sirEdmund Hillary, first conqueror of Mount Everest,
his greatest journey would only begin at the summit.
It would traverse not only thegreat landformsof Earth,
but a less visible geography
the private landscapes of one man's passage through the years.
At lastamong the long isolated
Sherpasof the Khumbu region south of Everest,
it would bring a new challenge, a new adventure,
hardly 20 milesfrom where his journey began.
Today Hillary is a folkhero in the Khumbu.
With ceremonial scarves or katas,
the Sherpa children honor not
the great sahib who climbs mountains
but the friendly giant
who has brought them
their first glimpses ofa world they never knew.
It has been a trade of sorts.
In changing their lives, Hillary has changed his own.
In the Khumbu highlandsof Nepal each dawn is a discovery.
Again the peaks emerge
Ama Dablam, Kantega, Thamserku, Everest
silent sentinels of Earth's highest mountains, the Himalayas.
In the Sherpa villages of Kunde and Khumjung,
less habit yaks and goats are sent to stony pas
and thejunipersmoke from a hundred scatteredfires
carriesmorningprayersto the gods.
At 13,000 feet the gods are never far away.
Formed forty million years ago
by the collision of the Indianlandmass
and theEurasian continent, Nepal is acountryset on edge.
Here, near Everest,
TibetanSherpaslong ago foundsanctuary.
Here for centuries theylived in rigorous isolation,
an island in time.
One manhas become a major instrument of change,
bringing both blessings and danger.
With his son, Peter,
Sir Edmund Hillary has returned this way many times,
but this year holds a special meaning
it is the 30th anniversary of the first conquest of Everest.
"I get quite a thrill every time
I come back to these two main Sherpa villages.
There'sso muchhere that's pleasantlyfamiliar.
There'salso the thought of soon
being reunited with somany old friends."
Again they walk the village lanes,
welcomed by thegreeting of clasped hands
and murmured "Namaste!"
Alreadyfields are being prepared
and planted with grainsor potatoes
for theshort upland growing season.
Across a wall bounds an old and irrepressible friend,
Phudorje, Hillary's companion on many a climb.
Everywhere young life exploresa worldmade new.
It is spring.
At lastfather and son enter the house
that long ago became a second home.
"Oh, Ang Dooli! Namaste!"
"Namaste!"
"Very good to see you."
"Yes, same. Namaste!"
"In this house I can always besure ofa warm welcome
and a cup of Tibetan tea.
Over the years my family and lhave spent muchtime here
with Mingma Tsering and his wife Ang Dooli.
And they're still my closest Sherpa friends."
In daily tasks, Ang Dooli endures.
Having lost eight of eleven children
she eagerly welcomed the Hillary family as herown.
Upon the wall hang snapshots,
fragments of life captured longago...
Hillary's daughters Belinda and Sarah...
his wife, Louise, and thechildren... young Peter with protective god...
playful Belinda the youngest child.
"Ah, thank you, Ang Dooli!"
Now a painter,
surviving son Temba remains a victim of iodinedeficiency,
once common in the Khumbu.
"Hey, Temba!"
"Ah, what's that? What's that?"
"Thyangboche."
"There."
Pivot on which so many destinies have turned,
it was Everest that once joined
the widely separated lives of Hillary and Tenzing Norgay,
his Sherpa partner on their historic climb.
Now, amid the peaks on the trail to Everest, they meetagain.
Still strong at 69,
Tenzingand hisdaughter Deki have come from Darjeeling
to join the anniversary festivities.
"Oh, Tenzing! Good to see you."
"...Deki."
"Hi, Deki. How are you?"
"Very nice to meet you."
"Hi, Peter..."
"Hi. Long time, Tenzing. It's good to see you again."
"Yes, did you have a good walk up?"
"Very well. Very fine, thank you."
In Britain today there will be a more formal celebration,
but Hillary andTenzing have chosen tocome here,
not only to be honored,
but to honor the families of so many Sherpas
who have riskedand often lost their lives on many an expedition.
"Ah, that's good."
"Yes."
"Namaste, Tenzing."
"Namaste."
For a moment two aging heroes pause tohonor each other,
look back to the victory they shared.
Remote, seemingly beyond the reach of human effort,
the towering mass of Everest
at mid-century had defeated all attempts to reach the summit.
Then, as Nepal opened to foreigners,
assaults at last were possible from the south.
In the British Expedition of 1953, guide Tenzing Norgay,
alreadyveteranof five failedattempts,
would be teamedwith Hillary,
who earlier hadsighted a possible route via the South Col.
With the returnof thefirst assault team
the challenge was passed to Hillary and Tenzing.
The earlier team had reached
a pointhardly 300 feet below the summit.
Now, exhausted and frozen,
they were somber evidence of the teststhat lay ahead.
But storm intervened.
Only after a night wracked by winds could Hillary and Tenzing
at lastclimb the icy blade tothe summit.
There they leftin the snow
a bar of chocolate and some biscuits.
At a lower camp, the main party waitedin growing suspense
while leader John Hunt scanned the ridges and icefallsabove.
Then atlast the returning climbers appeared,
led by a teammate lifting his thumb ina sign of triumph.
Brieflythe triumph wasshared only with comrades.
Then word flashed to the world.
"This is the BBC Home Service.
Here is the news.
Mount Everest has been conquered
by members of the British Expedition
The news reached London in a message to the Times.
It saidthat Mr. E.P. Hillary,
a New Zealander, and Tenzing Bhotia, aSherpa,
had reached thesummit last Friday, May 29th.
The message added, 'All is well.'"
In London the coronation of
the Queen now was marked by a fitting tribute.
For a new Queen Elizabeth,
an obscure New Zealand beekeeper had set a flag in high, thin air,
passed a boundary never crossed by man.
Quickly knighted by the Queen,
Sir Edmund soonpledgedloyalty to another lady - Louise,
the young musician whobecame his wife.
Yet domestic bliss soon would be exchanged
for thewintry wastes of Antarctica.
There, Hillary would lead
a caravan of modified farm tractors tothe South Pole,
settingup supply depots for the first Antarctic crossing.
Hero tothe world, symbol of high adventure,
his life would become a continuing odyssey,
seekingnew challenges around the globe.
Sometimes, with the indomitable Louise
on lessspectacular expeditions
in New Zealand or the Alaskan wilderness,
he discovered the new adventure of watching his children grow.
But always Hillary came back to Nepal.
Long a forbidden kingdom locked from the world,
Nepal had barely 200 miles of road
when atlast opened to foreigners in 1949.
Its few vehicles, machines,
and even grand pianos were brought
over the southern ridges on the backs of men.
Its terraced uplands, built bythe labor of centuries,
were joined by a labyrinth of trails on which
astonishing burdens were carried
by the hardy hillfolk or theircaravans of yaks.
Later each return of the family
would become a journey of discovery,
particularly for Louise whose lighthearted accounts
of their travels soon became best-selling books.
Learning the country by climbing it,
the children were takenby their father to seethe great peak
that changed his destiny and theirs
For thefirst time 12-year-old Peter would glimpse themountain
that one day would drawhim like an inescapable challenge.
With deepening regard for the warmhearted Sherpas,
the Hillarys eagerly lent a hand wherever needed,
opened the doorto a culture distant from their own origins.
On a mountainside at Thami notfar from the Tibetan border,
they helped build a supporting wall for a Buddhist monastery.
Its newleader was a 12-year-old boy,
believed to be the reincarnation of a previoushead lama or rimpoche.
"When I first went to the Himalayas,
my major interest really was in climbing mountains.
I got to know the localpeople,
the Sherpas, and enjoyed them very much.
And by spending time in the villages,
it became impossible for me not to realize that
there were so many things lacking.
So manythings that we took for granted in oursociety,
they simply didn't have.
And because I was very fond ofmy Sherpa friends,
I had this sortof nagging worry all the time
shouldn't we betrying to do something
about the future of theSherpas?
And to help them to withstand the changes
that were likely to take place?"
Around Hillary, often watching,
were the beautiful Sherpa children
open, quick to laugh, endlessly inventive in play.
Yet untaught, their innocence one day could become a prison.
In all of the Khumbu there was not a school tohelp them grow.
He would alwaysremember the words of a village leader:
"Our children have eyes, but they are blind."
"And itwas then at that particular occasion
that I decided that instead ofsort
of thinking about it for years and talking about it,
maybe Ishould try and do something about it."
Abruptly, Sir Edmund Hillary became a part-time carpenter.
Drawinghelp from contributors in New Zealand and the United States,
he formed the HimalayanTrust to support the program.
Today, still building after more than two decades,
he has completed and staffed
no fewer than 22 schools across the Khumbu.
"We have a good, experienced team to do the job.
My brother, Rex, is a builder by tradeback inNew Zealand.
And he's come over herequite afew times to help on these projects.
But without Mingma's organization and authority amongst the Sherpas,
I could have done nothing."
The patterns ofconstruction have changed little
since the building of the first schoolin 1961.
Some children help
some children watch some children imitate.
For some, classes havealreadybegun.
"...has entered."
"He has entered."
"His house."
"The men are climbing the mountain."
"The mountain."
"The men have climbed the mountain."
"This is the thing I've alwaysliked about theSherpas.
They always areprepared and know whatthey can do.
And they know that they don't have money,
but they have the strength of their hands.
In daysgone by, even my own children,
Peter, Sarah, and Belinda,
used towork inwith the localchildren,
carrying rocks and carrying chunks of timber,
and I really think they enjoyed it.
It is quite exciting
to watch aschool rise up from its foundations
and to see the rock I used to climb
being fashionedinto schoolhouse walls."
A rudimentary structure, unheated, dependent on natural light,
the newschool at Chaunrikarka is a center of village pride.
Quicklythe people gather, bringing bottles ofchang,
the local spirits, forthe celebration.
"I always feel a slightdegree
of apprehensionabout get-togethers like these.
Any Sherpa gathering tends to
become a somewhat festive occasion
with the local beer andspirits
flowingrather freely and mostly in mydirection.
And it's reallyquite achallenge
to survive these functions in an upright position."
"On behalf of the Himalayan Trust
and allthose who have helped build this school,
I have much pleasure now in declaring the school open."
For thefirst time the children enter the still empty classroom.
Here, in this vacancy,
each will embark on a new journey of discovery,
find new mountains to climb.
Today across the Khumbu the school bells ring,
many the empty oxygen flasks used by Hillary and otherclimbers.
Over the highland ridges more than
a thousand Sherpa children hurry to class eachday,
some toschoolsmore than a three-hourjourneyfrom home.
"Are you sleeping, areyou sleeping?
Brother John, Brother John.
Morningbell isringing, morning bell is ringing.
Ding done ding, dong ding dong."
At Khumjung, Hillary remains close to its day-to-day activities,
still enjoys visiting the first schoolhe everbuilt,
watching children draw pictures
of a wider world they have never seen outside a book.
Largestof Khumbu schools with an enrollment of nearly300,
Khumjung has a proud record of outstanding students,
some already entering leadership rolesin Nepal.
The soccer team, of course, remains invincibleto lowland teams
who quickly struggle for breath at 13,000 feet.
But schools areonly part of
a widereffort by Hillary and his associates.
Under his direction,
three landing strips have been carvedon the mountainsides,
ending forever the centuries-long isolation ofthe Sherpas.
In the mysterious symbols printed on the cargo,
pasing childrensometimes try to imagine the wonders
of the world from whichit came.
Built by Hillary, scattered clinics and two hospitals
at lastprovidemedicalcare
and have brought a new awareness amongthe Sherpas
that smoky dwellings and lack of sanitation
cause many of their chronic maladies
At Kunde even the local lama
has found a newtrust in modern medicine.
In a region where formerly half the youth diedbefore twenty,
there has been a dramatic improvement
in the treatment of children'safflictions
and a corresponding drop in the mortality rate.
For some, the cure seemed nearly miraculous.
Here, aboy, whose hearing has been severely impaired since birth,
can hear the full wonder of sound for the first time.
But as Hillary learned during
the building of Phaphlu hospital in 1975,
preparations for errands of mercy are sometimes of little use.
Eagerlyawaiting the arrival of his wife, Louise,
and young Belinda from Kathmandu,
he learned thatboth had been killed in the crash
of their plane shortly after takeoff.
For Hillary that day was darkness,
the beginning of a long journey
across a private wasteland without compass or place torest.
"I didn't really know what else to do apart
from going on building the hospital,
and then later we wentback toKhumbu
and spent time with Mingma and
Ang Dooli and various other friends,
and that was it. And they, you know, they allhelped a bit."
Shaken, Hillarywent back to work,
building new classrooms, adding to others.
"Thin walls. A bit bulgy."
"Yeah."
"Well, I think we had better do a proper job of it."
"Uh, hum."
"You'llhave toput a lot of frameworkin, won't you?"
"Yeah. Let's measure."
Now at Namche Bazar with his brother, Rex,
he studies the damage of time
and weather to a school built years ago,
draws plans forneeded repairs on its structure.
"Namaste."
"I think we're going to..."
Still Hillary'strustedsirdar or foreman,
Mingma Tsering jokes over the division
of labor in providing the lumber
who will cut and who will carry.
"...okay, carry."
"Will they help you carry?"
"Yes. It's o.k.?"
"Yeah, that's good."
"Big help."
"Those are cutting..., and they carry."
"Yep."
Drawn closer by tragedy,
Hillaryand Peter each feel a renewed awareness of therisk
that lies in every human attachment.
Now veteran climbers both, often in personal peril,
each has seen close friends and companions lost on mountain walls.
Even Peter was nearly sacrificed
on the soaring altar ofAma Dablam.
Struck by an avalanche high onits icy wall,
severely injured and climbing equipment swept away,
Peter nearly died in the two days
before he finally could be lowered to safety.
For Hillary himself thesummits have anew andpoignant meaning.
He can never again return to those icyheights.
Several times in recent years
he has sufferedcritical
attacksof cerebral edema or altitude sickness.
Twice in delirium he has had to be ledor
carriedfrom the thin upper air
to lower altitudes to save his life.
Today, the manwho first climbed Everest
must remain below 14,000 feet.
But today with Peter and Mingma he will press the barrier,
view ata distance the summit on whichhe stood 30 years ago.
For at last Peter is ready to answer the summons
he first felt as a 12-year-old boy
staringin awe at the mountain his father had climbed.
AlreadyPeter has made preparations
for an attempt on Everest by its formidable West Ridge.
A geologic accident that became the highest point on Earth,
Everesthas long been a challenge to Western man.
But to the Sherpas the peaks were something else.
Migrating from Tibet several centuriesago,
the Sherpas found an endlessly changing world of mist and stone
where peaks andtrees and streams
appeared and vanished with magical swiftness.
Quickly their imaginations populated
the landscape with gods, demons, and spirits of every kind.
Even the trees were sometime
believed to be the dwelling place of sacred beings.
In a continuingdialogue with the invisible
or disguised powers around them,
they have givenprayer a thousand forms,
a thousand means of transmission
writtenon hand-turned cylinders and waterwheels,
printedon prayer flagsand banners waving in the wind,
inscribed on shrines or chortens
engraved on stone tablets or manis
even onrocks in rivers and trailside boulders.
Committed to the elements,
it is hoped that the prayers will reach their protective gods.
The sun diffuses the fading prayer,
rain spreads it through the rivers,
wind carries it to the heavens.
Surrounded by prayer inlife,
Sherpasare followed byprayer even indeath.
Into the ear ofthe dead, the dying, or those soon to die,
a monk chants passages from the Tibetan Book of the Dead
to guide the consciousness
of the deceasedin the interval between death and rebirth.
Yet prayers must be learned and preserved by the living.
At Thami Monastery, itsgrea library of Buddhist scripture
must be read and taught each year.
Once itwas customary for one son in each family to become a monk.
But with the growth of tourism
a youngmonk may well envy theWesternclothing
and wrist watchof brother whohas become a trekking guide.
First encountered as a12-year-old boy,
the head lama again welcomes an old friend.
With Peter and Mingma,
Hillaryhas come to help preparations for ManiRimdu,
a yearly Buddhist festival to protect the Khumbu.
"Ah, namaste."
"Namaste. How are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you!"
"Namaste."
In the courtyard of the monastery,
helped by barelegged monks,
Rex andthe rest of the Hillary construction team
are swiftly completing improvements onthe paved court
and adjoining structures.
With time growing short,
Hillaryand Peter also join the crew.
Soon the balcony and yard willbe crowded withSherpas
and a few tourists who have made the pilgrimage
over the steep mountain trails,
some from villages many days' walk away.
With a soundingof horns the great cycle of dances begins.
As in the religious mystery plays of the Middle Ages,
the Sherpas actout their myths, make theater out of faith.
Often using thesymbolsof ancient beliefs in magic,
the dances again promise the victory of good over evil.
In the Khumbu every mountain has a spirit.
Mani Rimdu exorcises the demons that threaten it.
Backstage in the gompa or temple,
anotherritual is taking place.
Donningthe sacred masks and costumes,
decorated with an array of mythic symbols,
men arebecoming gods.
For a little while
they will become the holy figures invented by human need.
Now, like a challenge,
a crashof cymbals demands
the attention of the threatening adversaries.
For it is in the dance of the so-called Eight Furies
that the climactic struggle with the evil spirits occurs.
In it the benign gods rise in terriblewrath
to defeat and drive away the demons.
Once again the protective gods disappear into the gompa.
Once again the villagesare safe from demons for another year.
As always, the people form a line to pass the rimpoche,
bring gifts wrapped inceremonial katas.
One by one theyare blessed,
take a sip of tu or holy water with a sprinkleon the head,
then taste a bit of torma, made of flour and butter -
the ritual greatly similar to
Christian communio with its wine and wafer.
Yet, watching the rimpoche bless the people,
Hillary remembers another visit
when the head lama was a child
and theHillaryfamily helped build a wall.
On the western ridge above Kunde,
Mingma's wife, Ang Dooli, alsoremembers.
In a more private ritual she brings juniper tothe shrine
she andother villagers built long ago
for Louise and Belinda Hillary.
Yet even the Eight Furies cannot
protectthe Sherpa villagers from the risks ofchange.
Once reached only by anarduous two-week walk over mountain trails
the distance from Kathmandu now
canbe covered by plane inless than an hour
provided of course that the Lukla airstrip,
which bears some resemblance to a ski jump,
can be found in the frequent overcast.
Speaking a dozen languages,
tourists from Europe, Asia,
and America disembark from theaircraft,
pass through the villages alarming small dogs,
awakening the merchants,
and delighting the local children
who have discovered theblessings of balloons and bubble gum.
Today the Khumbu is invaded yearly by thousands of trekkers
and porters plodding the steep trails and spreading their bivouacs
across the upper slopeslike an occupying army.
More ambitious are theexpeditions intent on conquest
Since Hillary and Tenzing first reached the summit,
nearly 150 men and women have stood onEverest.
In Kathmandu there is a growing list of other teams
bookingdates on which they too can attempt to
climb Everest or a score of other peaks.
Everywhere the sound of the saw is heard.
Hillary tells of its impact.
"I believe the problem of conservationin the Khumbu area
is a very serious one indeed.
There are literally dozens of small hotels
being constructed with the view to supplying accommodation
to walkers and trekkers and climbers.
This has put avery considerable pressure
on the local timber resources.
In the old daysthe Sherpas used to have very strict rules
about where they cut firewood,
and how much they cut.
And thewhole society was well balanced ecologically.
All that has changed.
Nowadays most of the upper valleys have been completely denuded
and many of theforestshave been thoroughly thinned out."
As the Sherpas are learning,
their mountain homelandis astonishingly fragile.
Not only in theKhumbu but throughout Nepal,
trees are beingcut ata devastating rate
one third the nation's forest in the last decade.
Alreadyravished slopesare bringing disastrous penalties.
No longer held by trees,
landslides are destroying terraces
built by centuries of patient labor,
have even sweptaway or buriedentire villages.
With the help of Hillary's Himalayan Trust,
at least one resident is being banished from the Khumbu parklands.
Relentless foragers of seedlings and low vegetation,
goats long havethreatened theslow-growing shrubs
and trees of the high country.
Now Hillary, too, joinsin a great goat roundup with Mingma Norbu,
warden of the Sagarmatha National parkon the flanks of Everest.
From the scattered slopes almost five hundred goats atlast
are gathered near Namche Bazar
and driven to the less vulnerable lowlands in the south.
At park headquarters,
Warden Mingma Norbu leads an intensifying
effort to save the Khumbu fromcalamity.
A student in the first school
built at Khumjung overtwenty years ago,
he is aproud example of the educationmade possible by Hillary
Now, speaking both Nepali and occasional English,
he teaches a new generation ofSherpa children
to recognize the evidence of damaged trees
and erosion on the scarred landscape around them.
He stresses the critical importance oftree nurseries
and the need for a wider program of reforestation
protecting not only their fragile world,
but Sherpa culture itself.
Celebrated in a museum photograph,
the climbing ofEverest by Hillary andTenzing
hastened the changes taking place in Nepal.
Now on the thirtieth anniversary of that historic event,
the Khumbu is no longer an island lostin time.
Yet the past sends emissaries.
Announced by the beat of drums,
ancientprotectors of their Tibetan ancestors
appear amid thevillagers assembled atKhumjung School.
Believed to be the guardians of the four gatesof Earth,
"snow lions" have come down from the icy summits
to dance and cavort for the honored guests.
While the conquerors ofEverest
sample the home-brewed chang of the village women,
the school staff prepares a lesson
on how mountains really shouldbe climbed.
As the guests should know,
a little chang steadiesthe nerves,
helps blur the dangers and difficulties that lie ahead.
A helping hand is always appreciated.
Pace yourself.
The steeper theslope, the more rest you need.
Try not to trip on a tangled rope.
The fall may be farther than you think.
When altitude sickness strikes,
a whiffof oxygen can work wonders.
When lost, look for the summit.
That's where you're going.
In the final assault onthe last gale-swept ridge, don't lose heart.
"I'm going to die. I'mgoing to die."
"Okay"
"Thank you very much."
Celebrating onejourney, Hillary begins another.
From Khumjung School he leads a climb of children.
Bearing seedlings of fir
and rhododendron from Sagarmatha's nurseries,
the students ofKhumjung school are bringing back growth
to the blightedslopes below Everest.
Helped by Hillary as they commit rootsto soil,
they are part of a newchildren's crusade,
not to seek redemption in heaven, but to renewlife onEarth.
Around Hillary stand the silent witnesses
of the journey he beganlong ago
Ama Dablam, Kantega, Thamserku, Everest
the summit where he andTenzing
once left a bitof chocolate and a fewbiscuits.
Today he has brought a richer gift
the small beginnings of a new woodland,
the little trees protect by the prayers of children.
But theanswer to prayers often lies in those who pray.
In the opening minds of Khumbu's children
lies a measure of their world to come.
In themSir Edmund Hillary long ago
found somethingmore satisfying, more enduring,
than leaving a footprint on a mountaintop.