I dreamed of ascending Everest myself one day; for more than a decade it remained a burning
ambition. By the time I was in my early twenties climbing had became the focus of my
existence to the exclusion of almost everything else. Achieving the summit of a mountain
was a tangible, immutable, concret. The incumbent hazards lent the activity a seriousness
of purpose that was sorely missing from the rest of my life. I thrilled in the fresh perspective
that came from tipping the ordinary plane of existence on end.