News story about the blind climbers on Everest
Not just another mountain to climb
Candus Thomson -- On the Outdoors
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Originally published June 16, 2002
Clint Eastwood probably said it best: "A man's got to know his limitations."
Maurice Peret and Chris Warner, who braved Mount Everest in different ways last year, are still searching for that outer boundary.
Warner reached the summit of Everest in June, then three months later became the first American to solo-climb Shishapangma in a 33-hour Himalayan endurance test. Now, the Baltimore County man is on his way to Pakistan's K2, at 28,250 feet the world's second-highest mountain and considered by many the toughest to climb.
Dispatches from his expedition, which is expected to push for the top in late July or early August, will be on The Sun's Web site:
www.sunspot.net.
Last year, while Erik Weihenmayer pushed to the top of the 29,036-foot mountain and secured a place in history, Peret was "the other blind guy on Everest." He helped handle communications at base camp. Now, he's back at his job as outreach coordinator for the rehabilitation department at Blind Industries and Services of Maryland.
This weekend, he's waiting to hear if Weihenmayer reaches the summit of 18,513-foot Mount Elbrus in Russia. Success will leave Weihenmayer one mountain shy of climbing the so-called "Seven Summits," the highest peak on each continent.
"In some ways, it seems like a long time ago," says Peret of the Everest expedition. "I don't give it a whole lot of thought until someone mentions it."
Of course they still do. Civic and social service groups in Maryland and Pennsylvania have created a second career for the Baltimore resident as a motivational speaker. He's pretty good at it, too.
"It wasn't just about one blind guy climbing a mountain," Peret says. "We weren't carried up there. We participated equally in the expedition, and hopefully that changed people's perception of blind people and their accomplishments."
For Peret -- a regular guy, a smoker and a social drinker -- getting from Kathmandu to Everest Base Camp at 17,500 feet was not just a walk in the park.
Above 7,000 feet or so, most folks have trouble breathing the thin air. It has been likened to trying to suck air through a soda straw. Then there's rocks and drop-offs and Indiana Jones-style bridges -- tricky business, even for someone with sight.
The National Federation of the Blind, sponsor of the expedition, asked Peret last spring whether he wanted a piece of the action.
"Mount Everest was the furthest thing from my mind," he says, laughing. "But I thought, 'How can I ask my students to cross a busy street, to go across town, to get on a bus, when I was presented with an opportunity and I didn't take a risk?' I didn't think I could remain an effective teacher."
So he gave up smoking and took up jogging.
He worried that failure might give a boost to the stereotype of the helpless cripple.
"I didn't have a lot of expectations. There were so many unknown factors," he says matter-of-factly. "Was I going to find a limitation of my own, and would it be a physical barrier or would it be my blindness?"
Peret wasn't alone. Weihenmayer, an accomplished mountaineer, skier, sky diver and runner, was hearing from skeptics in the climbing community.
Ed Viesturs, America's most celebrated climber, who has reached the summit of Everest five times, said that though he admired Weihenmayer, "I wouldn't want to take him up there myself. ... When I guide, I like people to become self-sufficient. With Erik, they'll have to be helping him, watching out for him every step of the way."
Jon Krakauer, author of the best seller Into Thin Air, tried to dissuade Weihenmayer in a letter: "It's not that I doubt you have what it takes to reach the summit. ... It's just that I don't think you can get to the top of that particular hill without subjecting yourself to horrendous risk, the same horrendous risk all Everest climbers face, and then some."
Then, there was the flip side of the coin. One respected guide told the blind climbers: "Let's be honest here. I'll have clients come up to me and say, 'If a blind guy can do it, how hard can it be?' "
The criticism steeled Weihenmayer but shook Peret, the novice. "It wasn't in the bag," he says. "I had to go on faith."
An atheist, Peret acknowledges that he was running a faith deficit. A trip to Nepal seemed like it might awaken an interest in Buddhism and fill the void.
Instead, he found the trip "consolidated and deepened my Christianity and faith in God. The trip was kind of an answered prayer for me."
Peret funneled information to the climbers above and sent dispatches back home to the media and the expedition's supporters. He also made another contribution to the expedition, one he is proud to talk about.
"I had a nagging preoccupation with fulfilling my end of the bargain. I was always worried people were wondering, 'Who invited him, anyway?' " Peret says, wrinkling up his nose.
Usually one of the funniest people in any situation, Peret was overshadowed by a community of raucous, swashbuckling climbers.
One night after dinner, Peret brought out his guitar and improvised "The Dul-bot Blues," which lamented the abundance of the Sherpa specialty of lentils and rice that was wreaking intestinal havoc in camp. The song impressed Weihenmayer, who included it in the latest edition of his book, Touching the Top of the World.
"I was able to provide some entertainment and levity and contribute to something we could all enjoy," he recalls.
On May 24 last year, Weihenmayer reached the summit of Everest, the first blind man to accomplish the feat and one of 19 from his expedition to do so that day -- also a record.
"There was a lot of pride, a lot of emotion, a lot of tears," he says. "You just knew history was being made."
Weihenmayer isn't finished making history. In September, he hopes to climb Carstensz Pyramid in Indonesia, concluding the
"Seven Summits"adventure he started in 1995 with Mount McKinley in Alaska.
When asked if there's another mountain in his future, Peret laughs and says, "People ask me all the time. Of course, I always say, 'No.' "
But Everest is an experience that changed him.
"The culture, the qualities of brotherhood and fellowship, the camaraderie, the sense of purpose. Personally, those were the most important parts for me," he says.
He says he's a stronger father to 3-year-old Luc and husband to Leigh Anne, and a more patient counselor at work.
"There will be a lot of tests and adventures that won't be as big as Everest, but challenges far greater and more important than Everest was," he says.
"Does a man have to know his limitations? Yes. But I think there's something innate in us that makes us want to push through and surpass our limitations."
(from
sunspot)
Discuss about the highest mountains on the seven continents
