Glass Half Full: Risky business

Affinity for adventure can be dangerous but rewarding

By Traci Cox, staff writer
Posted on October 29, 2007

Last Monday, high-altitude mountaineer Conrad Anker delivered an inspirational and humbling lecture at Memorial Hall. Anker reached the summit of Mount Everest last summer, ranking among the annals of the thousands of climbers who have suffered hypoxia, hallucinations and brain damage at the highest peak in the world. But Anker is more than just a crazy climber. He is a humanitarian, author, father and husband.

In his lecture, Anker referenced one of the first Everest climbers from the early 20th century, George Mallory. Anker said that when Mallory was asked by a reporter why the heck anyone would want to suffer over 29,000 feet of sheer unpleasantness, Mallory replied, “Because it is there.”

Wow. Because it is there. Would you rub glitter into your eyeballs because it is there? Would you lick the sole

 of your shoe because it is there? Probably not. You would have to be nuts or on a reality TV show to do something like that. Then again, to visit the top of the world, you would have to be a little nuts, too.

This matter-of-fact response on Mallory’s part—and Anker’s obvious inspiration by it—seems unusually headstrong and, frankly, a little bit ignorant. Some adventure is crucial for anyone’s life, but to what extent can humans push the limitations of their bodies until an exhilarating adventure evolves into stupidity? With a few rare exceptions, humans can’t physically breathe at Everest’s altitude without the help of supplemental oxygen. That’s a sure sign that we just aren’t meant to be there. But humans can’t breathe on the moon, either. And we all know that expedition was a giant leap for mankind.

There’s a fine line between exploration for humankind and exploration for kicks. Yet where does this invisible line fall? Anker has a family that depends on him. He knows the risks. He even said himself that it’s not very fun to climb Everest while you’re doing it, but once you get back down, that’s when the rewards kick in. Why would someone place so much suffering on themselves and their loved ones (not to mention the environment and poor Mount Everest itself) just to say, “yeah, I climbed Everest. What now?” It’s quite the quandary.

Recently, the film adaptation of Jon Krakauer’s book Into the Wild appeared on the big screen. For those of you who have not read or seen it, it is about a twenty-something Thoreau and London fan who burns all the money in his pockets and hitchhikes his way to Alaska only to die of starvation because he ate the wrong plant seeds. And why did Chris McCandless choose to give up his family and his career possibilities? McCandless makes quite a social statement in this book, but I also think that he wanted to explore the Alaskan wilderness just because it is there.

Anker and McCandless each possess this remarkable drive to explore and push the limits of the human body and spirit. Anker is thankfully still alive, but many ambitious Everest climbers have never come down from the mountain. McCandless will never be able to recount the details of his remarkable cross-country adventure to his family. Was the loss of a human soul worth it? Who are we to judge, “just because it is there?”

This is a really difficult question. When an activity involves mortality, things get complicated. And I don’t want this article to be depressing. We’re all looking for adventure, and I think that‘s am amazing universal aspect of human character. Whether you’re grinding glitter into your eyeballs or setting a new world record, good for you! Everyone must do what they find rewarding, fulfilling and inspiring, not because it’s there, but because it truly means something to you—even means enough that you would give up your family, even your life, for it. Just hope that you don’t eat the wrong seeds.

Traci Cox is a junior English major.