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HE'S THE BEST mountaineer you've never heard of, a climbing Sherpa who's topped out faster and stayed on the summit of Mount Everest longer than any other human on earth—but he's got a public-relations problem. Like so many of his people, he is subject to Westerners' romantic stereotypes of Sherpas as selfless sidekicks. But not for long, as
Outside senior editor Eric Hagerman found on a three-week trek through the Solu-Khumbu valley, homeland of Nepal's best-known ethnic group, for his profile of Babu Chiri Sherpa, "He Ain't Your Sherpa," page 66.
"If you gave a Madison Avenue ad agency Babu's account," says Hagerman, "Babu's expedition company would be turning people away. His story is a slam dunk. He's the best Everest climber there is, but he doesn't know how to market himself." Still, given Babu's ambitious plans for record-breaking 11th and 12th Everest summits in April, fame may be about to
find him.
Between choking down dozens of boiled potatoes and swilling endless cups of tea, Hagerman encountered a side of Babu and Sherpa culture few Western travelers see. And he found a strange syndrome on the main trekking route. "Western trekkers often see only what they want to see in Sherpas, and the Sherpas try to conform to the myth." At the same time,
Hagerman adds, "Trekkers often think they are ruining Sherpa culture, but the Sherpas are smart and resilient enough to get what they need without selling out."
In fact, Babu and a cadre of elite Sherpa mountaineers are preparing to slough off the image of the defiantly cheerful porter and assume their rightful titles as the most rock-solid climbers in the Himalayas. Still, Hagerman observes, "It scares some Western mountaineers that Sherpas might be looking out for themselves. They think, If he's here to set
records, will he help if I'm in trouble?"
Could posters of Babu and his colleagues join those of Ed Viesturs and Alex Lowe in America's climbing shops?"I'm really interested to see what happens from here on out," says Hagerman. "In Nepal, Babu's a superstar. In the U.S. he's worked on moving crews."
Photographer Teru Kuwayama was not impressed with Babu Chiri Sherpa's physique on first meeting the mountaineer, but after trekking the Solu-Khumbu valley with him for three weeks, Kuwayama glimpsed some of what makes Babu a legend. "It was hard to fathom this happy little man hauling his gut up the side of the mountain. But above 3,000 meters,
we'd be struggling to make it up and down the hills and he wouldn't even break a sweat. For him it was a vacation."
After experiencing the carnival atmosphere and steep turns in New Hampshire's Tuckerman Ravine, a backcountry ski sanctuary on Mount Washington, Charles McGrath was a devotee. "I just bought new skis for next year's trip," says The New York Times Book Review editor McGrath, who joined the ritual trek up and down the mountain for "Knocking Off Tuckerman Ravine" (page 57). "Watching is part of the fun," says the Allendale, New Jersey– based writer. "We cheered for the flawless runs and the horrendous wipeouts."
Manhattanite Matthew Hranek jumped at the chance to photograph our annual spring camping special ("Don't Fence Me In," page 104) in Texas's Big Bend National Park. That's because his regular gigs with GQ, Wallpaper, and Travel & Leisure rarely involve spending
the week with a gaggle of multisport enthusiasts or sleeping under the stars. "Waking up at sunrise and watching the desert come to life was pretty special," says Hranek. "I don't get that on West 4th Street."
"When you're hiking in the hills, you need to be aware that all the things there, good or ill, are the result of political actions," says San Francisco–based reporter Mark Hertsgaard, who cornered the Washington elite during the hectic early days of the new administration to sort out the future of U.S. environmental policy. "The burden of
proof is on the Bush people to see if their tactics work," he says of Bush's market-based "environmental federalism." His analysis, "The New Wild Order," begins on page 33.
"Being on Galeras doesn't give me flashbacks," says Stanley Williams, the Arizona State volcanologist who barely survived a 1993 eruption on the Colombian volcano. It's no wonder—few visual cues remain. "The place where I stood when it blew no longer exists." Williams interviewed his fellow survivors and relatives of those killed in the
disaster for his book Surviving Galeras, co-written with journalist Fen Montaigne and excerpted on page 98. Says Williams: "You have to accept that disasters are where you learn the most."
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