Worlds to conquer

Ed Viesturs is going after the “Naked Mountain,” the deadly peak that has killed more than 60 people who have attempted to conquer it. It is Pakistan’s Nanga Parbat, the ninth-highest peak in the world, called the Naked Mountain because its sides are so steep that snow never completely covers it. It rises to 26,658 feet, an elevation at which most climbers require bottled oxygen simply to survive.

But Viesturs is no ordinary climber; he’s a legend in mountaineering -- a man who grew up in the flats of the Midwest yet went on to become one of the elite climbers of the world. He does not use supplemental oxygen because the combination of his body chemistry and an intense training regimen allows him to ascend where others cannot. He’s also become known outside climbing circles since his rescue efforts during a disastrous 1996 storm on Mt. Everest.

Nanga Parbat will not be an easy climb with its unstable glaciers, frequent storms and avalanches. If Viesturs succeeds in his attempt next month, he will have only one mountain left to climb to become the first American to conquer all 14 peaks above 26,000 feet. Only 10 people in the world have climbed them all. The only other peak remaining in his long mountaineering campaign will be Nepal’s 26,545-foot Annapurna, which has already turned him back twice.

At the moment, Viesturs is on another journey, this one requiring that he crisscross the United States to tout his book, “Himalayan Quest,” published by National Geographic. It’s what Viesturs describes as an “appetizer book” because it is long on spectacular photos and short on narrative. In an almost matter-of-fact way, Viesturs writes of his climbing life in the Himalayas, beginning with his first attempt to scale Mt. Everest in 1987 -- a climb that ended in failure.

“We could manage the difficulties on the upper part of the West Ridge all the way to the summit, but we knew we couldn’t descend safely without a rope,” Viesturs deadpans in the opening chapter of his book. “So, 300 feet below the summit we turned around and came down.”

What he fails to mention throughout the book is just how huge an undertaking one of these mountaineering assaults is -- the expense, the danger, the months of acclimation and, finally, the severe hardship required to reach a summit.

Perhaps a better description of what he has accomplished comes in the book’s foreword, written by renowned filmmaker David Breashears: “High above me, a man was summoning all his strength, experience and will in pursuit of a goal he had nurtured since his youth, Everest. Entranced, I watched as his solitary figure tenaciously closed the gap between his physical limits and the summit.”

Ed Viesturs, the early years, hardly foreshadowed what was to come. He grew up in the flatlands of Rockford, Ill. In high school, he read “Annapurna,” the grisly account of the first ascent of a 26,000-foot mountain in 1950 that is still considered one of the classics of climbing literature. With the cost of a single climb at about $30,000, he got his first big break when the Mountain Hardware Co. agreed to a long-term sponsorship. In 1995, Viesturs climbed four Himalayan peaks in a single climbing season, which stretches from spring to summer.

On a recent morning, Viesturs was at the palatial Brentwood home of Gil Friesen, the former president of A&M; Records. A uniformed maid poured coffee and ice water for him on the patio overlooking the pool. Viesturs, in his jeans and T-shirt, looked slightly out of place in such regal surroundings. But he and Friesen have been friends for more than a decade, since the former recording mogul helped raise funds for the climber’s solo assault of Everest in 1993.

A day of slide shows and book signings lay ahead, but at that moment Viesturs was talking about the handful of Himalayan mountaineers, no more than a few dozen in the world, and his place in that world. He talked about getting his start, his first Everest expedition, and his role during the well-documented tragedy on that mountain that left nine climbers dead.

The year 1996 was pivotal for Viesturs, just as it was for the rest of mountaineering. First, he married Paula, whom he had met two years before at a backyard barbecue. Then came the time to make another assault on Everest, the world’s tallest mountain, this time for an Imax film being made by Breashears. Viesturs was to be the star of the climb, which would involve carrying a bulky Imax camera to the summit. Paula came along to help manage the base camp.

There were more than 140 climbers and support crew assembling at the base camp on various expeditions, including noted guides Scott Fischer and Rob Hall, both close friends of Viesturs. One of the climbers in Hall’s group was journalist Jon Krakauer. He would later recount the disaster that befell the group in the bestselling “Into Thin Air.”

On May 10, four groups of climbers attempted to reach the summit. Nine people would die on the mountain, and three more would die later. Among them were Fischer and Hall. An unexpected storm had come up, lashing the climbers with 100-mph winds that obscured their route down the mountain. Viesturs and the rest of his crew had decided not to attempt the summit that day and instead were reduced to listening over the radio as Hall slowly froze to death, trapped high on the mountain. They tried to cajole him to his feet, but it was too late.

“We knew he was going to go to sleep that night and that he wasn’t going to wake up,” said Viesturs, sadness in his voice. “We started crying. We felt so helpless.”

In the days that followed, Viesturs, Breashears and other members of the Imax team became rescuers. Breashears offered the use of their oxygen. And they brought back a climber named Beck Weathers, a Texas physician who was thought to be dead yet somehow struggled into a camp. He would lose his nose to frostbite, as well as one hand and part of the other.

When the rescues were complete, Viesturs and Breashears had to face the next question: Would they attempt to summit Everest in the aftermath of so many deaths or back out and, in the process, put the $5.5-million project in jeopardy? They decided to attempt the summit, which they achieved on May 23. They also found Hall’s and Fischer’s bodies in the snow.

“Coming down, all I could do was sit there and spend some time with them,” said Viesturs. “Both their wives had asked me to retrieve some personal items -- Scott’s wedding ring and Rob’s Rolex -- but I just couldn’t do it.”

So why does he keep putting his life on the line when so many have died? “Why do people go fishing? Why do people play golf?” he asked in reply. “You can’t explain it to people if they don’t understand. I get to challenge myself and be with great friends in a beautiful environment. For me, it’s very fulfilling.”

He now trains five or six days a week, preparing for Nanga Parbat. Mountain climbing, as he says, is a lot like climbing stairs 12 hours a day -- but without the oxygen.

If there is a rap on Viesturs, it is that he is almost too cautious, that he might have been able to make some summits that he backed out of. Viesturs’ reply is that he is still alive, that a mountaineer must be able to get up and down the mountain. A climber must have the discipline to turn back, he said, no matter how close the goal, if conditions are wrong.

“I climb for personal reasons,” he said. “I don’t climb to please anyone. I don’t sway under pressure, and I don’t climb for fame or fortune.”