On Sunday, I read Jon Krakauer's memoir of the 1996 Everest disaster, 'Into Thin Air'. It likely won't be the last Everest book I read but it's odd that it wasn't the first. I actually started with Michael Kodas' 'High Crimes' after reading a review of it in the Rocky Mountain Outlook while skiing in Banff. Previous to this winter, I didn't have the foggiest clue about any of the controversy and mystique that surrounded Everest.

I'm glad that 'Into Thin Air' was not the first book I read on the subject. I think that I was able to read Krakauer's tale with much more sympathy than I would have had it been my first foray into the literature on the subject. I found his writing honest yet beautiful in some ways. His distress at the situation was very genuine to me and I felt for his inability to put what had happened out of his mind. I remember hearing about Rob Hall's satellite phone call to his wife when the incident happened and all I could think was “what an asshole. What a tragic way to piss your life away and widow your wife.” I knew nothing of climbing or Everest. I didn't know that Rob Hall was a guide and doing his job and growing his business. I didn't need to know those things. I had no right to pass such harsh judgement. At the time I was eating myself into a depressed coma, accomplishing nothing. My only goal was to finish a degree I didn't even want or have any idea how it would benefit my future. For me to criticise someone who was living the life he loved, even if that life killed him, was arrogant and stupid.

I'm much more driven now than I was in uni. I can understand now why people chase passions and I try not to knock them. I've come to respect the climbing community. For one thing, they seem to be world-class fundraisers. Unlike so many other pursuits, climbers don't seem to be reliant on government grants.

I don't think extreme climbing is the hobby for me. The more I read about it the more I think that it would take me too far out of my comfort zone. Evil Scientist has oft referred to me as an “indoor girl”. The statement would infuriate me were it not a line from 'Titanic' and is, after all, Evil Scientist's way of being romantic. It's not entirely true, I love being outside and I've missed a summer of bike riding, running and inline skating (however awkward I am at the latter). When it comes to climbing, it's not a height thing or a fear of falling; I'm not afraid of either. In fact, the couple of times I've been rappelling, I've found it to be quite a rush.

No, what it is is the many facets of my OCD kicking in. Climbing started to seem like an unlikely hobby for me when I first read Kathleen Meyer's 'How to Shit in the Woods'. I'm not such a delicate flower that I mind using an outhouse but I draw the line at crapping off the side of a mountain. Not to mention that I am unable to make it through the night without getting up to pee at least three times (imagine how many trips I'm making now). I'm thinking that stumbling out of my tent at 0230 hrs to take at waz at 20-some thousand feet isn't going to be pleasant.

Which brings me to the next problem I can see if I were to become a climber. I hate the cold. I freeze the minute the temp drops below about -18C. I've horrified a couple of people by telling them that I'll crank the heat in the house up to 24C when we have an ass-biting deep freeze going on. “Couldn't you just put on a sweater?” No, I have no circulation, I wouldn't just need the sweater. I'd need to put on a ski suit. I can't even enjoy the summer because I need to pack extra layers for when I enter the a/c. I think that this inability to deal with the cold is probably a pretty big deciding factor in whether one is really fit to climb Everest or not.

I also couldn't survive without a shower. I can barely make it through a weekend camp-out without feeling as though I'm caked in dirt. I don't even want to think about what two months of growth under my arms and on my legs would look like.

So while Everest fascinates me, I wouldn't say I'd ever be so obsessed that I would consider climbing it. For starters, with no real climbing experience, I don't feel that I have any right on such an intense climb. I also doubt that I would fare well when it came to altitude sickness. I can think of much easier, pleasant ways to kill brain cells.

But what of you, gentle readers? If someone gave you all the money and gear you needed to climb Everest, arranged all the permits, your flight, etc. If your job gave the time off with no penalty and your family supported you fully. If that gift card was dropped in your stocking this Christmas, would you be on the mountain come spring 2010?

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