AT THE END of Tejada-Flores's prescient "Games Climbers Play," he writes that he can "visualize the day when, with ultra-modern bivouac gear, a climbing party of two sets off to do an 8000m. peak just as today one sets off to do a hard route on the Grand Teton or Mont Blanc."

Messner and Habeler did just that, and others have followed in their footsteps, but not enough, not yet. Such climbing demands deep outdoor acumen, technique that has become instinctual, mental stamina, the legs and lungs of a locomotive—all of which require years of apprenticeship in the mountains to develop. When you substitute oxygen for training, fixed lines for technique, and Sherpas for uncompromising personal responsibility, you've not only diminished the great, mortal game of mountaineering; you may have diminished yourself.

And yet if your grandest dream has always been to climb a big Himalayan peak, you can still do so ethically and thoughtfully, even with a guide. Use Sherpas to help you get your gear to base camp, but hump everything above there yourself. If you must fix a line, do so yourself, then remove it—along with all your gear and garbage—when you leave. Finally, face the mountain and its glorious, rarefied ambience on its own terms, without oxygen.

Why we climb, on a mountain, is made manifest by how we climb. We have choices. The Tyrol Declaration is not enforceable. There are no penalties. The mountains are still free, and we're all at liberty to climb them largely as we desire. Let the best of your character be your guide.

But don't forget: We are what we do. And style is substance.