a type of alive—not like a party, but like being at one with the world. It’s being in tune,” notes Eric Brymer, a professor of exercise and sport science at Manchester Metropolitan University in England. “These athletes may have more to tell us about what it means to be human than the rest of us.”
Mountaineer Conrad Anker, who has spoken frequently of the ethos of climbing, states, “If you’re not scared at least once a week, maybe once a month or once a year, you’re not living life. Some may think it’s a very frivolous pursuit, obviously we’re not curing cancer, we’re not even curing the common cold, but there’s this drive that humans have to explore and to see what’s over the horizon.” While climbing does indeed foster a connection with the world in a unique way, it’s hard to argue that the sport is not also one wrapped in danger. Entering the orbit of climbing means hearing refrains like these:
My family told me when I got into this that they’re worried they’ll lose me.
I was warned that I was going to lose people I loved.
If you can’t handle death, you shouldn’t be in the business of climbing.
Given that new methods and equipment are constantly being developed, breaking climbing down into all its varieties is a nearly impossible task. Rock and ice climbing are perhaps the most accessible and well-known forms. The advent of climbing gyms has allowed beginners to swiftly master new skills no matter what the topography or climate of their surroundings. Once adept at working with the necessary gear, climbers can incorporate what they’ve learned into mountaineering, which often includes both rock and ice climbing.
Chris dove in, training under Keith’s watchful eye. His vocal, highenergy temperament contrasted with her private, steady nature. As she did with all new interests, she wanted to excel and put silent pressure on herself. In Chris, Keith saw a tenacious partner who could push him as much as he pushed himself. Since losing his parents in a plane crash in his twenties, he’d felt alone in his life. But he felt close to Chris, who soon became the primary recipient of his love and attention. The pair fell in love over the next two months. “It’s the greatest love I’ve ever had,” Keith wrote in his journal. “I love every move she makes and everything she says.”
In turn, Chris fed off Keith’s knowledge, gobbling up every bit of information he provided on how to become a better climber. They spent weekends rock climbing in Georgia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. During the week they’d go to the climbing gym or strap on seventy-pound packs and run up Stone Mountain to gain the endurance needed to summit Tarija Peak in Bolivia. Visiting from Wisconsin, Joyce marveled at her daughter as she ran up and down the mountain four times in the time it took Joyce to hike it once.
Unaccustomed to having a climbing companion able to keep pace with him, Keith found his passion for the sport and Chris growing exponentially. Chris continued to push herself and often hiked to the limits of her ability to build endurance. Glancing behind his shoulder on one of their weekend training sessions, Keith noted the look of frustration on Chris’s face. He forged ahead as she tried to keep up, tripping over rocks as her legs felt heavy. He told a fourth, then fifth story about a climb he’d enjoyed. Each story had a goofy sidebar punctuated by hand gestures and impressions.
“Come on, Chris. Not much longer,” he said. “Turnaround point is just up over this ridgeline.”
“I’m fine,” she said, in an unconvincing tone.
He stopped and turned, shifting from storyteller to cheerleader. Chris slumped onto a boulder, unlacing her boots.
“Look, this isn’t going to happen overnight,” he told her. “You’ve been sitting in a cubicle at Lockheed for two years. Don’t expect so much from yourself.”
“Dammit, Keith. I said I’m fine so just . . . space, please.” Her exasperation exposed, she reached down and pulled off both boots. In a flash, she threw them beyond the path, watching them roll down into dry brush. Head in her hands, she sat unwilling to make eye contact or admit weakness.
Keith hadn’t seen this side of her before. He leaned on his trekking pole as he reached down to retrieve the boots. “You’ll need these. Like I said, the turnaround point is just up over that ridge.” He handed her the boots with a gentle smile, which she briefly returned. They continued the hike, finishing in silence laced with triumph.
WITH THREE WEEKS TO GO before the Bolivia trip, Chris found herself in Colorado undergoing a crash course in ice climbing from well-known mountaineer Thor Keiser, who would be the lead guide on their climb. Just a year earlier, Keiser and French climber Chantal Mauduit had been rescued by climbing greats Scott Fischer and Ed Viesturs on K2, perhaps the most treacherous of the world’s 8,000-meter peaks. Chris had begun to master the lingo and dig into the personalities in the climbing community. Her time in Colorado was an opportunity to expand these skills.
Keiser took Keith and Chris to climb a classic pillar of ice in the Vail area called Rigid Designator, which rose 115 vertical feet. With a cauliflowered base rising into an upper column of beautiful ice, if Chris topped out on her first visit here, she knew it would be quite an accomplishment in her young climbing career. On day two of their attempt to scale Rigid Designator, Keith had Chris roped, and he stood below her on solid ground, belaying her from thirty feet. The day prior, he’d fought all the way up, while she’d managed to scale only about half of it before stopping in exhaustion and rappelling down. She’d vowed to get to the top before they left Colorado. Confident in her skill, Keith placed a bet with Thor, the loser paying for dinner in Bolivia.
Passing her previous stopping point, Chris paused, adding long ice screws into the frozen wall as she rose. She swung her ice axe, making contact with pale blue and splintering frozen shards that bounced off her helmet. Higher she climbed, taking a moment to rest, turn back, and look at the view. The altitude, often a factor for new climbers, failed to bother her. Her breathing remained smooth, her heart rate low, and her head clear. On a wall of ice at nearly nine thousand feet, Chris felt challenged but strong.
As her breath created puffs of white, Chris came close. With a final, calculated hack into the ice, she pulled herself to the top of the pillar. A hundred feet below, Keith let out a hoot. He and Thor stood amazed at the feat, which had taken only a few hours for a relative novice. Keith gripped the rope in his guide hand, leaning back as she slowly descended.
“You owe us dinner in La Paz, dude,” Keith told Thor, laughing. Almost mumbling to himself, he said, “I’ve got to marry this girl.”
MOUNTAIN GUIDE HECTOR PONCE DE LEON heard Chris laugh. Not just once, but many times, interrupting the intensity of the climb. The clients on his 1993 guided Bolivia trip seemed drawn to Chris’s energy. At altitudes over twenty thousand feet, she seemed untroubled by the difficulties with food and physical limitations that usually worried novice climbers. Keith had expressed concern about her pushing too much, too fast, wondering if she realized how hard the challenge would be. But Chris’s first foray outside the United States showcased her ease in places far from home and high in the clouds. She appeared to be made for life in a tent on a high ridge.
“I just didn’t feel like I was guiding her. Not at all,” Ponce de Leon said. Thor had asked the Mexican guide to help him lead their small group on climbs of several peaks in Bolivia, and he recalled being surprised by their tenacity. “Chris and Keith wanted more than regular clients. They asked for an extension of the normal itinerary. She wanted extra climbs everywhere we went. Her physical and mental strength were outstanding. I was impressed.” Ponce de Leon remembered her laughing a ton, “having a great time . . . she was just all over the place. She was putting up tents and doing things that we weren’t expecting clients to do. After that, I knew I needed to keep track of
