The Book Review

I was raised in the shadows of Bryce Canyon but it was my daughter, Amy, who was raised in the shadows of Francis Peak, who introduced me to Bryce in the wintertime. 

We first started going during Winter Festival, (then we decided we liked to have the glories of Bryce more to ourselves). One year, the guest speaker was Carol Masheter.  When we heard the lecture, she hadn’t written the book but the next year when we went down, her book was available and she happened to be on the other side of our same building.  We visited for a couple of hours when I went around to purchase a book from her. I had lots of questions.  Like, “How do you descend Mt. Everest when you are totally blind?”

Utah's Carol Masheter suffered through polio, depression and the loss of a loved one. But she picked herself up and did something few people in the world have ever done. As a pensioner, she became the oldest woman in the world to climb the highest mountains on all seven continents. At age 60, Carol first conquered South America’s highest peak in Argentina at 22,841 feet. before topping the 19,340 feet peak of Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, the highest peak in Africa, at age 61. Next she would take on Asia’s and the world’s highest mountain, reaching the summit of the mighty 29,035 feet Mount Everest in Nepal, age 61, on May 24, 2008. Unswerving Carol then mastered the highest peak in North America at age 63 by topping the 20,360 feet Denali in Alaska. She next scaled Europe’s 18,510 feet Elbrus in Russia, age 64, before moving on to Antarctica’s 16,077 feet Vinson Massif in January following her 65th birthday. Her final climb was the smallest at 7,310 feet in Australia’s Snowy Mountains, New South Wales.

Against her family’s wishes, she braved soaring heights, plunging temperatures and even went blind for 12 hours descending Mount Everest.  It's likely she will keep the record of being the oldest woman to climb the highest mountain on all seven continents, because those who issue permits for Everest in Tibet have since decided no one over 60 can attempt the climb. Carol said that attitude makes no sense when held up to death­rate statistics for big mountain climbs. Older people have better survival rates, she said, likely because they have better endurance and judgment. "Each climber needs to be evaluated on their own merits," she said. Carol's merits can be traced to her childhood in Orange County, Calif., where her parents loaded chores onto her and her siblings and didn't pay them any allowance, but did pay them for chores her mother and father normally took on. Her parents required the kids to tithe to their church. Carol says she has saved 10 percent of her income for herself since age 8; by the time she was a freshman in high school, she was considered so responsible and organized that her neighbors would have her take care of their homes while they were away. So you could say Carol was in training all her life.  Amazingly, a series of harsh personal events prompted her to make her world record bid. Carol said: 'When I turned 50, my life fell apart. Within 18 months, I lost a job I loved (a professor at the University of Utah), I learned the man I loved was involved with someone else, my mother died, and my own health deteriorated. 'To cope with grief, anger, and stress, I went to the Bolivian Andes for high-altitude mountaineering training, summitting seven peaks over 17,000 feet. I found I was a pretty good at it, and felt my best in the mountains. 'It led me to later climb Cho Oyu, the sixth highest mountain in the world in China in 2005. I could see the summit of Everest from the summit and I knew I wanted to try.”  In preparation for Everest, she tackled Kilimanjaro, and after reaching the top of Everest set her sights on the 'Seven Summits' - the highest peak on each continent. "I was discovering my talents rather late in life," she said. “And they weren't knitting or playing bridge. "Mountaineering saved my life."

Carol paid for her expeditions herself, out of her savings and investment proceeds. She only recently retired from her position as an epidemiologist for the Utah Health Department. She managed all her training and expeditions as a working person with fewer than three weeks of annual vacation time. She lives well below her means, always has, forgoing the frivolous for the serious and meaningful. At the Bryce Lecture during  Q&A when she said that it cost between $90,000 and $100,000 to climb Mt. Everest, someone asked her if she got sponsors.  "No. I don't believe in it.  I scrimped and saved and paid for it myself."   "Besides," she continued, "who would sponsor an old lady?"  Someone in the audience shouted out, "AARP."  As an older person, she said, "It is a rush. I'm continually learning. What I'm able to do is a moving target. It changes every year." She only runs three times a week now, though she sustains at least a 9­minute mile. She needs more recovery time and has learned to embrace logistical flexibility. Doors close, but others open. "In climbing," Carol said, "we learn sometimes your best move is behind you. You have to keep your joy about you — and sometimes have a good swear."

"Why would somebody like me, who has issues with fear of heights, little old lady -- why would somebody like that climb Everest? I guess the bottom line was I didn't want to die without knowing whether I could do it," Carol said. "It just seemed like a splendid adventure."

So, at 60 years of age, her adventure began. With her application approved, she hired a trainer to get in the best shape of her life.

"To become part of the whole historical tradition of climbing Everest just really intrigued me," she said.

Carol's group arrived at base camp on April 11, 2008.   They don’t hike to the summit of Everest like we hike to the Radar Towers or Timpanogos—start at the bottom and hike directly to the top. Just to get to Base Camp was an 11-day walk. It was only about 45 miles at 8,400’ elevation but the leisurely pace gave their bodies time to acclimatize.  After numerous decompression climbs over a period of several weeks from Camp 1 to Camp 4—a place called “the death zone” because the cells in your body actually start to die at this altitude. Without acclimatization, where the red blood cells increase to take in more oxygen, you would die within a few minutes in the death zone.

Even after more than six weeks of training on the mountain, you still might not make the team selected to climb to the summit.  Not everyone is chosen. She was called in after her medical checkup – both physical and mental – and given the happy news that she was one of the 7-member team selected to attempt to climb to the summit.

The book, No Magic Helicopter by Carol Masheter is the story of her climb to the summit of Mt. Everest.

They start the climb to the summit at night.

Tendi, Nima (her Sherpa guides)and I were ready to go a little before 8 pm. I set my regulator at a flow rate of four liters per minute, the same rate as the rest of my team mates. My heart danced inside my chest with happy excitement. I felt better now than I had a few days ago lower on the mountain. The weather was good, I felt good, and it was all about to happen. This was what we have been working toward for weeks. This was it, the real deal.  (Page 168)

Climbing at night can be a lonely experience. Though other climbs were moving up the mountain, my world was limited to a small circle of light from my headlamp. I could hear the crunch and squeak of Tendi’s and Nima’s crampons in the ice, but we spoke only in the abbreviated language of mountaineers, keeping our communication focused on coordinating our climb and conserving our energy.

A full moon rose, backlighting the wispy spindrift now blowing off the ridge about the Balcony. It looked like the ghostly breath of the Mountain Goddess. It was the most spiritual thing I had ever seen. That moment I understood with every fiber of my being why some people believe Everest is sacred, even a goddess. The sky brimming with brilliant stars, the sparkling strand of headlamps on the route ahead, and the swirling goddess breath were so beautiful my eyes filled with tears. I blinked them away and refocused on the climbing.

The route became steeper. (Page 169)

Tendi and Nima were a few steps ahead of me. I could see nothing higher than them. They turned to face me, grinning, as I stepped up onto the snowy summit mound. I threw back my head, filled my lungs, and belted out my signature summit how with all my might, “AAAHHHOOOO!!!!!”  The Sherpas flinched in surprise. Then they grinned and howled back. I exploded into giddy laughter, delighted by their imitation. I felt as though I could leap effortlessly to the moon. After all the challenges – political, physical, and interpersonal – I was standing on the highest point on earth, against the odds. I really did it! I’m standing on top of Everest! I’m in heaven! Unlike the documentaries I had seen, Tendi, Nima, and I had the summit to ourselves. “What an unexpected gift. “Thank you, Chomolungma!” (The Goddess of the Mountain)

Tendi led me to the very highest point, a bench of snow flanked by a few spent oxygen cylinders and strings of prayer flags. “Sit here, Carol Didi. Don’t lean back, or you fall into Tibet,” he ordered, a hint of dry humor leaking past his oxygen mask. Obediently I sat. I could not resist looking over my right shoulder behind me. Tendi was right. It was a very long way down, thousands of feet down. My head swam. I carefully turned my head to look straight ahead again and sat leaning forward a little, away from the terrifying drop behind me.

Time stood still. Each precious second seemed like a life time. We could have been on the summit 10 minutes or 30 years. I could not say. I was lost in timeless wonder. From where I sat, a vast magical panorama stretched before me. The rest of the Himalayas, including the world’s other highest peaks, except for K2, seemed much lower than where I sat. They looked like ethereal white islands floating in a sea of fluffy clouds, a place where angels might drift peacefully below us, singing and playing their harps. The view had an otherworldly beauty that documentaries and photos do not fully capture. I felt so fortunate, the Luckiest of women, to see this magnificent view, to have climbed this magnificent summit. I felt truly on top of the world. It was the happiest day of my life. (Pages 182-183)

 Not only had Carol conquered Everest, she conquered depression, fear and grief.

The woman who had once hit rock bottom was literally on the top of the world.

Note: She climbed down from the summit to Camp 4 totally blind. When I asked her about this, she said she had a Sherpa behind and in front or on each side every step of the way. They never found the cause.  “My vision returned with 12 hours, whereas snow blindness, retinal bleeds, and corneal lacerations need more time to heal.” (Pg. 212)

DeRay, Eddy and I went to the “Everest” movie on Tuesday. It was amazing, intense, and provided visual images of the perils and wonders she described. The only thing lacking was the Sherpas. They are the real heroes and were completely left out of the movie. I guess you can’t show everything in 2½ hours. I can’t believe a 61-year-old woman did it. Good on ya, Carol Masheter.

Some say Everest changes you. I hope it changes me for the better. Certainly the people I met and the experiences I had during my Everest climb provided good lessons for my post-Everest life. The Namche woman who returned money I had overpaid for a yak bell exemplified a universal sense of ethics that transcends culture. The “enemy” who became an ally on the Lhotse Face reminded me to be open to positive changes in even the most difficult relationships. My blind descent to Camp 4 was a powerful lesson in staying calm in a life-threatening situation and persisting when it would have been easier to give up. If my talks inspire just one person to live a dream, fight the good fight, or make wiser choices, perhaps I can help make the world a better place. (Page 213)