54 Candles Expedition

Decisions Decisions

By Allen Sherpa

Ten men – most from the White Mountains of Arizona – will launch an assault on the summit of Mount Hood, Oregon’s highest mountain, in the early morning hours of Friday the 13^th of April, 2001. Allen Sherpa was invited to participate, but declined. With this letter, he’s staying in close contact with the climbing party.

Since deciding to join you on the climb, thoughts have been racing through my head like a flock of seagulls in a nor’easter. There’s so little time and so much to do. Getting gear together is proving to be a challenge. I’ve got my crampons, balaclava, ice-axe, 9 mm rope, cams, capilene undies, carabiners, fleece middle-wear, gortex shell, jumars, blue bags, etriers, ice screws . . . It’s all coming together.

I’m stumped on one thing. What do I take to the summit? I mean – this will be the culmination of a dream, a symbol of achievement. You hear people talking about the “pinnacle of success”. Well, this is not only the symbolic pinnacle; it’s the real pinnacle. It seems only fitting that I take something to honor the accomplishment. But what?

How about a bottle of champagne? Yea! I can haul a bottle of the bubbly and ten glasses (alright – two bottles) and we can all take a toast to our success. Then again, let’s think about this. I figure a couple bottles of champagne and ten glasses will weigh about eight pounds. On a climb of this magnitude, I’ll need another eight pounds of weight about like I’ll need a bathing suit and beach towel. And then there’s the issue of trying to crawl down five thousand feet of icy glacier in the middle of a blizzard after having shared a couple bottles of champagne. It might lead to some great marching songs, but I’m not sure it’s the greatest safety suggestion I’ve even heard. Ok . . . scratch the champagne.

Maybe a religious symbol of some kind. The Himalayan guides on Everest expeditions typically take “prayer flags” to the summit. One of your fellow climbing commandos said he got to a summit nearly 19,000 feet high and found someone else had dragged a 30 foot long, steel pipe cross up there. But then I got to thinking about how we’ll be ten different men with ten different faiths, each with a mutual respect for the other. It seemed like one’s belief system should be a private matter and that it might be construed as being a bit arrogant to attach the symbolism of my beliefs to the efforts of the others without their consent. Drop that idea.

What about our sponsor’s banners? Oh great – bring commercialism to our efforts. Some sponsors have contributed money to the expedition. They’re expecting some photos on the summit showing exhausted, but smiling alpinists holding their company logos with the tops of the clouds as backdrops. Actually, if they paid part of the bill, I guess we have no choice. The banners don’t weigh much and we agreed to do it. But, still there’s got to be more – a greater metaphor.

If I were smart, I’d come up with a metaphor involving a cellular phone. One I could use to call in a helicopter to pick me up so I didn’t have to walk down. Oh, shame on me. Strike that thought. I can’t be weakening at so late an hour. No. I’m going to the summit and back down.

My thoughts keep coming back to Kato. Kato’s my son, a big, strong, handsome kid, a tremendously gifted athlete that has competed in alpine skiing events in Europe in the International Police Olympics. Despite his physical prowess and strength, no kinder or gentler man has walked the earth. Hopefully, his two young children know this and never forget it. You see, Kato died a little while ago. A cancer took him. Although the illness took him from us physically, it never affected his strength of character and heart. Not even in the last days did his spirit weaken. He directed every last bit of his remaining energy to doing what he believed was right. He wanted to make absolutely certain that his two young children knew he loved them. He believed in doing so, he was teaching them how to love others. He believed he could give them no greater gift. He smiled at me that last time I saw him and then he died.

So that’s it. I’m taking Kato’s spirit and honor with me to the pinnacle of Oregon. He showed others how to love by loving them. He showed others how to work hard by working hard. He taught others how to win by winning. He taught me how to climb a mountain and he’s guiding me on this one. Maybe a little photo of Kato will soon be found on the summit of Mount Hood.

So to Kato’s son and daughter, Ali and Christopher, Daddy’s picture will be on the highest mountain in Oregon. Hopefully, it’s a symbol of what he wanted you to know . . . that anything is possible if you set your sites on it, work hard and climb just one step at a time as you go higher and higher. I’m going to climb that mountain because he taught me how to climb mountains. He didn’t quite make his last summit, but he was still smiling when the clouds closed in.

The metaphors abound here. Some things take a lot of effort and bring you a lot of pain, but they can still make you a stronger and better person. Isn’t that a lot like climbing a mountain? Well, I guess that’s another story.