3. T H E G LO B A L M A N
2. The man on the mountain
4. −
4 2
A l l p h o t o g r a p h y t a k e n f r o m
O n e M a n' s E v e r e s t : T h e A u t o b i o g r a p h y o f Ke n t o n C o o l
i n t e r v i e w
−
5. −
4 3
k e n t o n c o o l
−
at His Feet
T h e s TaT i s T i c s r o l l o f f T h e To n g u e – 1 2 T i m e s u p e v e r e s T, o n o n e
o c c a s i o n m a k i n g T h e s u m m i T T w i c e i n o n e w e e k , T h e m a n w h o g oT
r a n u l p h f i e n n e s ( n oTo r i o u s ly s c a r e d o f h e i g h T s a n d 6 5 y e a r s
o l d ) To T h e To p, a n d a l l T h i s d e s p i T e b r e a k i n g h i s h e e l s T e n y e a r s
a g o. k e n To n c o o l i s u n d o u b T e d ly T h e m o s T a c c o m p l i s h e d, a n d
a s To n i s h i n g , c l i m b e r o f h i s g e n e r aT i o n . b u T aT w h aT c o s T ? w h o i s
T h e m a n b e h i n d T h e m o u n Ta i n ?
6. −
4 4
i n t e r v i e w
−
K
enton Cool says amazing, a lot. In the first five minutes
of our interview he has proclaimed explorer Chris
Bonnington, the whole of the climbing industry, the
mountain (there is only one), and the entire Nepalese nation
all to be ‘amazing.’ One could wonder about whether this is a
case of limited vocabulary - too much time on the mountain,
too little in school - but Cool is a bright, intelligent man, who
speaks with passion and considerable intellect. His recent
book is accomplished, well-written and well-researched. No.
All these things are ‘amazing’ because, to Cool, they really
are amazing. He is constantly amazed by life, his amazement
and wonder at the world is part of what draws him back again
and again to the highest point on earth; and also to danger,
to hardship, to considerable endurance, to uncertainty.
And he does all this, with two children and his wife at
home in the Cotswolds. How? With difficulty, he says. And,
as we talk, it becomes clear that the balance between family
life and life on the mountain is a perilous one at best. Cool’s
desire to escape, to be away from the minutiae of life is a
constant, all-consuming desire. He is almost junkie-like
in his quest for his next mountain ‘fix’. Undoubtedly, this
pull away from his family at times has taken its toll, and the
constant presence of danger and possible death cannot be
ignored. And yet, he remains in so many ways a thoughtful,
considered man - hungry for new adventures, yes, but
equally happy to sit in contemplative stillness, soaking up
the beauty of the world around him.
On fear: Everest doesn’t scare me. I’ve always been
very respectful of the mountain. I first went there in 2004
and, while I was wary of going to 8000 metres and the effect
that has on your body, your mind, your brain, I wasn’t scared
of the mountain. I went there bristling with confidence, I’d
just done a great ascent in the Himalayas, and some might
say I was brash. But when you get to know something, your
confidence levels rise – and I’ve never become complacent
or let my guard down, but I do have an understanding of the
mountain now.
On cOntrOl: We’ve recently bought a pig
shed outside Bibury (near his home in the Cotswolds),
it’s a complete wreck. That scares me. There’s so
many things out of my control - builders, lawyers,
estate agents, finances. My destiny and my fate
are in other people’s hands. And what scares me
is that they might not have the same vision or
ideology or moral values as me. In many ways I
would much prefer one of my Sherpa friends to
be looking after that sort of thing. People who
have the same values as me, who understand
humility and community, which we have lost
much of in the West.
On clients: I’m different to a lot
of Everest companies and leaders in that I
only work one-on-one with a client. I very
carefully build a relationship with that
person over months or even years. I insist
I get to know the family – sons, daughters,
husbands and wives - and get everybody
on board, so that when we make the really
critical decisions on the mountain, we’re in
it together. We have such strong relationship
and understanding that we don’t have to make
open decisions because we already know what the
decision has to be.
On Danger: This is arguably the most
dangerous working environment in the world. There’s
no form of rescue, helicopters can’t pluck you from 8000
metres up, your body is being ravaged by high altitude. We
call it the ‘Death Zone’, because we are literally dying as
we’re trying to climb to the summit. It’s a race against time.
It’s got to be absolutely perfect. Otherwise we’ll die.
On nOrmal life: There are few places we can
go on the planet these days when we’re away from the hustle
w o r d s E m m a J o h n s o n
7. k e n t o n c o o l
−
−
4 5
"We call it the ‘Death
Zone’, because we are
literally dying as we’re
trying to climb to the
summit. It’s a race
against time. It’s got
to be absolutely perfect.
Otherwise we’ll die."
8. −
4 6
i n t e r v i e w
−
and bustle of life. I’m in New York right now, looking
out of the window, everyone is stressed, anxious,
there are cabs rushing around everywhere. Being in
the moutains is a cleansing experience. All the fluff
and the periphery of life is stripped bare and you’re
focused on the necessities of life, the next meal, the
next water stop, sleep – all these things we take for
granted. These become a true focus and you come
back with a real sense of what is really important for
us as individuals and as a race. Looking around New
York I think, is this real life? Really? When I come
back from an expedition I’m very much at one with
myself and my surroundings for a few weeks, and
then tax returns and VAT build up with me again. One
of the big draws of going to the mountains – aside
from the friendships, beauty, and the climbing – is
that escapism from everyday life.
On Family liFe: It’s desperate. I don’t
know how to juggle it. When I’m home I’m longing
to be in the mountains, when I’m in the mountains
I’m longing to be at home with the children. Go
figure that one out. When I’m away I desperately
miss the family, especially now the children are
older and they have more of an idea how long
Daddy’s away for, I do struggle with that. But at
the same time you can’t take the mountains and the
climber out of me, every now and again I get this
pent up frustration and Jazz, my wife, sits me down
and says, ‘just book a flight, just go’. Sometimes all
it takes is one flight. I put my skies on, I do one ski
turn and I’m alright again.
On Fate: On the mountain we have objective
danger which you can’t control, but there’s nothing
you can do about it. It’s there. You can’t prepare for
avalanches – I’m aware of them, but it doesn’t worry
me. You can’t fight nature, you can’t control it (we
think we can but we can’t), so that doesn’t concern
me. I don’t believe in fate, I’m not religious, but if
the worst happens, it happens. There’s nothing we
can do to control it.
On death: I’ve been to more funerals
than I have weddings. My best friend, Jules
Cartwright, passed away very sadly in 2005
working as a mountain guide. That gave
me a really hard reality check. What
we do is dangerous and it offers very
little reward for the risk we take.
But – it sounds awful to say this
– losing Jules was the best thing
that happened to me. It’s makes
you look at what you’re doing,
and it reels you back a little
bit, keeps you in check.. Jules
was the best of the best, and I
thought if someone that good
and that talented can die on
a mountain, well, then it can
happen to any of us.
On nepal: The recent
disaster in Nepal was absolutely
terrible. This is the poorest nation
in South-East Asia with some of the
nicest, most humble, hard-working
people on the planet. And they just
get kicked repeatedly in the balls. God,
it’s so unfair. But the Nepalese are very
resilient, they will bounce back. People
are already re-building, they’re getting on
with their lives. I do think 'if that was England,
would we cope in the same way' I don’t think
we would. I think we would roll over and give up.
We can learn so much from the mountain people, they
struggle to exist and yet they’re smiling, they’re happy,
their stress levels are very different to ours. For me it’s
a real learning curve.
9. k e n t o n c o o l
−
−
4 7
On the past: The past is hugely
important to me. I became interested in
Everest history a number of years ago;
the expeditions in the twenties are
totally fascinating – those trips
encapsulated everything climbing
stands for, the romantic image
of mountaineering, the huge
treks from Darjeeling just to
get there.
On the future:
There are so many peaks I’d
still like to climb. But it’s
also about who I climb with.
I climbed Pen y Fan (the
highest peak in south Wales)
with my daughter last week.
My son, who’s three, got
half way up, then me and my
daughter made it to the top.
That must rank as one of the
best mountain experiences I’d
ever had. I’ve climbed Everest 11
times, why should I get a kick out
of Pen y Fan? Well it was because of
who I’m with. That’s what’s important
to me. The journey represents success,
not the destination. Yes we all like to stand
on summits, but the people that you meet on
that journey are the people that make it what it
is. The destination is almost irrelevant.
One Man's Everest: The Autobiography of Kenton Cool
is out now. Kentoncool.com
