Downhill Skiing/Snowboarding in Nepal - Slave to the Quest (Cont.)

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Outside Magazine May 2003

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Slave to the Quest (Cont.)


	Cold feet: Koch at Granite Falls, in Teton National Forest. (Jeff Riedel)

AT SIX-TWO, 185 POUNDS, Koch is big by the standards of the climbing and snowboarding worlds. With his linebacker shoulders, jutting jaw, and skinhead-short blond hair, he could be a cartoon character: Sergeant Rock in snow camo, or "El Gringo con Carne," as he was dubbed on a 2000 snowboard-mountaineering expedition in Peru that we'd both joined. He exudes nervous energy. The first time I set foot in his Jackson apartment, a few weeks before Christmas 2002, I find him on hands and knees, madly scrubbing at a spot of mud left by a careless visitor. About the only time you'll see him relaxed is on his snowboard, where he moves with serenity and perfect balance—a classic old-school rider.

A big key to Koch's success is that while he is a physical machine, he's also a social animal. He makes a point of striking up conversations with total strangers. He asks waitresses to show him their tattoos. He makes unnervingly direct eye contact, flashes his cat-who-ate-the-canary smile, and then crushes your hand in his. He's a big hugger, which can be corny, but it's usually charming, too. On McKinley a couple of years ago, conniving to meet two women climbers on vacation from jobs at Sony Music, he approached with a pressing technical question: Could they help him fix his broken Discman?

In a Huaraz, Peru, disco, I'd gotten a glimpse of Koch in full roar, stripping off his shirt when the beat picked up and clearing a huge swath on the dance floor. When I catch up with him in Jackson, he isn't in quite the same form—his right knee is still tender from ligament surgery two months ago. But it's party season, and Koch never misses a party. Toward midnight of my second night in town, we find ourselves in the Old Yellowstone Garage, a Jackson restaurant where the local oral surgeon is hosting a lavish holiday fte. Koch is dressed nattily, as usual—crisp chinos and a long-waisted Cuban shirt—and he works the room like a seasoned pro. Having been a fixture at the elite local outfit Exum Mountain Guides for more than a decade, he's a well-known figure in Jackson, and most people have heard about his upcoming Everest plans. One woman in a black sleeveless blouse, however, has not. When he brings her up to date, she crosses her arms in disbelief.

"You can do that?" she asks. "Isn't it, like, way too steep?"

"Not really," says Koch. "I mean, I've been on steeper stuff here."

If Koch has any doubts about the project, he doesn't let on. Mark Newcomb, 36, a Jackson ski mountaineer and likely Everest teammate this summer, marvels at Koch's ability to radiate confidence. "I can't just go tell somebody I'm going to ski Everest," Newcomb says. "I have to say, ÔWell, I'm going to try, but it might not happen.' Stephen isn't like that. He can look somebody in the eye and say, ÔI'm going to snowboard Everest.' "

Overhearing the conversation, a balding thirty-something PR executive and amateur climber joins in. "What route are you doing?" he asks Koch.

"The direct North Face," says Koch. "The Hornbein."

"Wow," says the man, his eyes widening. "We were on Cho Oyu last year, and we got a good look at it. It's steep—you'll have to rappel some sections."

Koch shakes his head. "I don't think so. I'm going at the end of the summer, during the monsoon. It should be filled in."

"And you're going to climb that thing with all that snow?"

"That's the thing that everybody forgets—like Marco," Koch says of Siffredi's attempt. "He went up the North Ridge and dropped in from above, and I really think that was part of the problem." Siffredi used oxygen and support Sherpas, Koch explains, but he wants to do it "by fair means"—no oxygen, no Sherpas—and in true "alpine style": straight up, straight down. "That's the purest way," he says. "And also the only way you know for sure what the snow is like."

"Wow," the man says again, shooting Koch a sideways glance.

Talk to Koch's oldest friends in Jackson and you often see the same look. Most express support for the project, but it's not hard to read the worry in their eyes. "I wonder if he feels like he's pounded himself into a corner and needs to get this out of the way so he can say he did it," says Jack Tackle, 49, a fellow Exum climbing guide and a veteran of many Alaskan epics. "Which isn't the best place to be, psychologically, on a project of that scale."

Others are less charitable. "I wouldn't want to be in his position, I can tell you that," says John Griber, 37, another snowboard mountaineer from Jackson. "If I go to Everest, I don't have any obligations. If I'm 200 feet from the summit and need to turn around, I can turn around. Can he?"

When I report the comments to Koch, his face tightens. "When you get up there on the mountain, there are no sponsors," he says. "And anyway, nobody could possibly put more pressure on me than I do."

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