 |
| Eric Simonson in the shadow of Everest |
Nearly 75 years after George Leigh Mallory and Andrew Comyn Irvine disappeared on Mount Everest's North Face, mountaineering's most haunting mystery was no closer to being solved. Did the legendary British climbing team actually reach the summit 29 years before Hillary and Norgay? And how had Everest claimed their
lives?
It was in hopes of answering these questions that Eric Simonson, Jochen Hemmleb, and Larry Johnson formed the 1999 Mallory & Irvine Research Expedition. Simonson, a 43-year-old American guide who'd participated in seven prior Everest ascents, recruited some of the world's best alpinists to retrace Mallory and Irvine's steps, guided by Hemmleb's
meticulous Everest research. Few observers felt the expedition would find anything worthwhile on the windswept slopes of Everest.
But on May 1, five team members who'd been combing the snow terrace below the First Step solemnly walked into Simonson's tent at Advanced Base Camp and loaded into his laptop the digital photos they'd taken the day before. "To see those clothing tags," Simonson recalls, "to read 'G. Mallory,' sent shivers down my spine."
Simonson has since had to defend what he calls his team's "impeccable archaeology at 27,000 feet" against charges of ghoulish exploitation. And only now are the expedition leaders presenting their complete story, including startling—and previously unreported—new findings about Mallory and Irvine's final hours. "Ghosts of Everest" (page 62) is their exclusive account, adapted from the book of the same name, to be published in October by The Mountaineers Books. It's a tale that may have a sequel: The team plans to return as early as next year to search for Irvine and for Mallory's elusive Kodak
Vest Pocket camera (whose film could provide definitive evidence of what happened that June day). Simonson remains cagey about where his team will look—and with good reason. "We feel nothing but awe and reverence for these men," he says. "We don't want their bodies to become tourist stops on the way to the summit."
"One terrifying day, over the Gulf of Mexico, we came very close to dying," remembers British balloonist Brian Jones, who, along with Swiss partner Bertrand Piccard, completed the historic first circumnavigation of the earth by balloon. The fliers were being asphyxiated by carbon dioxide, the result of a faulty air
filter—only one of many crises they faced. "But we were never irritable with each other," says Jones. The duo's witty, intimate book, Around the World in 20 Days (John Wiley & Sons, November) is excerpted beginning on page 86.
Esquire contributing editor Steve Friedman has nothing against the kind of biking-climbing-skiing sybarite who works for a living only when conditions suck. But he had to vent when just such a guy got Friedman's sister pregnant. "He's actually a great father," admits Friedman,
whose "Letter to My Future Brother-in-Law" begins on page 106. "These days he lies on the couch muttering, 'Behold the tamed warrior.'" This month, Friedman's profile of the greatest bowler in history will be published in The Best American
Sports Writing 1999.
Canadian illustrator Edmund Guy identifies both with Friedman and the truant boyfriend. "A few of my friends wanted to date my younger sister, and they were all slackers," recalls Guy, whose work has appeared in the New York Times Magazine and Rolling
Stone. "The trick was to dissuade her without revealing that it takes one to know one." Guy's illustration (page 106) is his first for Outside.
|
New York Observer reporter Nick Paumgarten learned to ski at age three in a park behind Gracie Mansion in Manhattan, wearing Korean rubber boots lashed to plastic Yellow Dragon skis. With these impressive credentials, Paumgarten is uniquely
qualified to check out the dazzling new twin-tip Salomon Teneighties that allow skiers to outstunt snowboarders in half-pipes. "These skis will save us from the knuckledraggers," says Paumgarten, a devout parallel-planksman, whose report begins on page 30. "The guys who
invented them are re-injecting the energy that's been lost to snowboarding."
Daniel Peebles, whose arresting wide-angle portraits of Eustace Conway appeared in last month's issue, considers lurid crime fiction and film noir classics R&D for his work. For "The Hunting of the Poacher King" (page 110),
Peebles persuaded police informant Chuck Hartwig and his wife, Judy, to sit for him in their mobile home. "He really impressed me because he put himself and his wife at such risk," says the Albuquerque photographer. A self-described "director-type," Peebles obsessively orchestrates every shot. "I choose camera angles that are too low or slightly
askew, to give an artificial sense of spontaneity, even voyeurism."
|
|