Product Description

THE EXTRAORDINARY LIFE STORY OF
AN ORDINARY MAN WHO BECAME THE
CENTURY'S MOST IMPORTANT EXPLORER

Adventurers the world over have been inspired by the achievements of Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man ever to set foot on the summit of Mount Everest. In this candid, wry, and vastly entertaining autobiography, Hillary looks back on that 1953 landmark expedition, as well as his remarkable explorations in other exotic locales, from the South Pole to the Ganges. View From The Summit is the compelling life story of a New Zealand country boy who daydreamed of wild adventures; the pioneering climber who was knighted by Queen Elizabeth after scaling the world's tallest peak; and the elder statesman and unlikely diplomat whose groundbreaking program of aid to Nepal continues to this day, paying his debt of worldwide fame to the Himalayan region.

More than four decades after Hillary looked down from Everest's 29,000 feet, his impact is still felt -- in our fascination with the perils and triumphs of mountain climbing, and in today's phenomenon of extreme sports. The call to adventure is alive and real on every page of this gripping memoir.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #42028 in Books
• Published on: 2000-05-01
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 320 pages

About the Author
Sir Edmund Hillary was born in 1919 in Auckland, New Zealand, and served in the New Zealand Air Force during World War II. Knighted for his ascent of Mount Everest in 1953, he achieved many more adventuring "firsts" before establishing the Himalayan Trust, an organization devoted to improving the lives of the Himalayan people. He has two surviving children by his first wife, Louise, who died in a plane crash with their third child. He is now married to June, widow of his Antarctic partner Peter Mulgrew. Sir Edmund and Lady Hillary live in Auckland.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1: Roar of a Thousand Tigers

Tenzing called it the roar of a thousand tigers. hour after hour it came whining and screeching in an unrelenting stream from the west with such ferocity it set the canvas of our small Pyramid tent cracking like a rifle range. We were 25,800 feet up on the South Col, a desolate saddle between the upper slopes of Everest and Lhotse. Rather than easing off, the gale grew more violent the longer it went on. I began to fear that our heaving and thrashing shelter must surely be wrenched from its mooring, leaving us exposed and unprotected amongst the ice and boulders. I was braced between Tenzing Norgay and the tent wall with no room to stretch out to my full length. Jammed in tight, just turning over was difficult and resulted in a spasm of panting. The thudding canvas beat constantly against my ribs and whenever my head touched the fabric my brain felt like it had been placed under a pneumatic drill. As a weight-saving device, we had left behind our inner sleeping bags and this was proving to be a considerable mistake. Even wearing all my down clothing I found the icy breath from outside penetrating through to my bones. A terrible sense of fear and loneliness dominated my thoughts. What is the sense in it all? I asked myself. A man was a fool to put up with this! When it came, sleep was a half-world of noise and cold. Then my air mattress deflated, freezing my hip where it rested on the ice. It was the worst night I have ever spent on a mountain.

On the other side of Tenzing my old climbing friend and fellow New Zealander George Lowe and the English climber Alf Gregory were similarly hunched up in their sleeping bags, twisting about in futile search for some position less uncomfortable and for some escape from the bitter cold. We were using the oxygen sleeping sets at the rate of one liter per minute, which made it easier to doze. At this height you dribble a good bit in your sleep, and when your oxygen bottle gives out you wake with a terrible start and your rubber mask is all clammy and frigid. Throughout the endless night I kept looking at my watch, wondering if it had broken, for the hands hardly seemed to move. Finally, when the hour hand crawled around to 4 A.M., I struck a match and read the thermometer on the tent wall. It was -25°C and still pitch black. I gently nudged Tenzing and he was immediately awake and, in his universally helpful fashion, wriggled up and began lighting our primus stove. The tent started warming up a little and I retreated callously deeper into my bag and thought about the events of the previous day. What a momentous day it had been!

The 26th May 1953 had dawned cold, bright and clear. We were at Camp VII, 24,000 feet up in the middle of the Lhotse Face. Overhead a cloud of powder snow was being blown off Everest's upper ramparts, but it didn't look too bad. It boded well for the first assault pair of Charles Evans and Tom Bourdillon. They were at Camp VIII on the South Col and would be going all out for the South Summit this day. Their start would need to be better than ours. At Camp VII it took us ages to get moving. Even simple tasks at this height take an inordinate length of time, as oxygen-starved brains and bodies have little concentration and lack coordination. At 8:45 A.M., after breakfasting on biscuits and lukewarm tea, Tenzing and I, the second assault pair, led off on one rope. Our support team of George Lowe and Alf Gregory followed on a second rope. Behind them were our three high-altitude Sherpas who would help us establish Camp IX on the South-East Ridge. Bringing up the rear were five load-carrying Sherpas who were taking supplies only as far as the South Col. Charles Evans and Tom Bourdillon had been chosen for the first assault because they had developed a successful partnership and were better versed than any of us in using the more experimental closed-circuit oxygen equipment which, if it worked, would allow faster and more economical progress toward the South Summit and, maybe, beyond. If the weather made it a one-dash venture, they were equipped to take their chance. Meanwhile Tenzing and I had established our credentials by being acclimatized and strong, so we would be close behind, awaiting our turn, with the cumbersome but more familiar open-circuit systems.

We crossed a frighteningly unstable crevasse and made our way up the long steep slope of the Lhotse Face. We hadn't gone far before the ever-observant George shouted and pointed up to the distant South-East Ridge, where we could see two tiny figures making their way upward toward the South Summit. It could only be the first assault party of Evans and Bourdillon. Their main objective was to reach the South Summit itself but they could make the decision to carry on toward the top if they thought they could do it. Further down the South-East Ridge we could see another couple and judged this to be John Hunt and Da Namgyal carrying some assault supplies for us as high as they could on the ridge. It was an exciting scene -- we were really on the move!

Tenzing and I rushed on ahead and reached the top of the Geneva Spur. We caught glimpses of the first assault team making excellent time up the ridge until they disappeared into the cloud covering the upper part of the mountain. I noticed that Tenzing looked decidedly subdued. We dropped down the 200-foot descent to make our second visit to the South Col. The first had been when we had pioneered the major lift of supplies to the col which had made the attempts on the summit possible. The small group of tents in the camp, bucking in the wind, looked very lonely indeed and we crawled inside one for shelter.

I kept looking out the door and very soon picked up two figures moving down the Great Couloir, and traveling very slowly. I hurried across the South Col to meet them. It was John Hunt and Da Namgyal and they were completely exhausted. They had carried their loads until they could carry no longer and then dumped their supplies on the South-East Ridge. John had left his half bottle of oxygen there too and had come down without it, so was in a desperate condition. I supported him across the col as best I could but he collapsed time and time again. It was only when I obtained some oxygen from the camp and returned with it to John that his energy partly returned and he made it back to his tent and crawled thankfully inside.

By now George and his team had joined us, and he suddenly gave a yell. Through a break in the clouds his sharp eyes had caught a view of the tiny figures of Evans and Bourdillon, still above 27,000 feet, but descending into the Great Couloir. Clouds swept in again and then lifted barely ten minutes later. To our astonishment we realized that our two friends were now at the bottom of the couloir. Obviously they had slipped and fallen hundreds of feet. Only the soft snow at the bottom had saved them from plummeting into a crevasse or down the terrible Kangshung Face. They, too, were completely exhausted, only able to move a few steps before stopping and slumping over. George and I hurried across to join them. They were an astonishing sight -- covered in ice from head to foot. It demanded a great effort to get them over to a tent and push them inside with John Hunt.

With numb lips they told their story. Right from the start they had problems with their powerful but experimental closed-circuit oxygen equipment. When all went well they made excellent speed. High on the South-East Ridge Charles Evans' problems increased and they reached the South Summit with faulty gear and feeling very tired. The weather, too, had deteriorated with cloud and wind. The very stubborn Tom Bourdillon wanted to carry on, whatever the risks, but Charles Evans was sure that if they persisted they would never return. "If you do that, Tom," warned Charles Evans, "you will never see Jennifer again." So they c

Customer Reviews

How Hillary got to the top of Everest - and kept on going.
The metaphors are almost irresistable. What does a man do after he reaches his peak? For New Zealand beekeeper and amateur mountaineer (as they all were, then) Sir Edmund Hillary, the answer was to strap on the crampons and find new peaks to conquer.

View from the Summit is an autobiographical look back at a large and heroic life. After sharing the conquest of Everest with Tensing Norgay in 1953, Hillary went on to accomplish many more firsts, any of which would have been enough to crown most people heroes. He travelled by farm tractor to the South Pole (poking the British leader of the Trans Antarctic Expedition seriously in the eye in the process). He led an expedition of New Zealand-designed jet boats up the Ganges. He was the first man to stand at both poles and the summit of Everest.

The achievement that stands out most clearly for Hillary though, is his lifetime of work in the Himalayas, building schools, airfields and hospitals. Using his fame to maximum effect, he travelled widely seeking donations, then returned to the mountains he will be forever associated with to give something back to the people who made his triumph possible.

But all these stories have been already told, and were it to merely retell them, View from the Summit would be little more than an anthology. What makes this book most rewarding is its insights into the man behind the stories. The beekeeper. The RNZAF navigator. The husband and father. In looking back on his epic life, Sir Edmund Hillary shows that mountains, rivers and icecaps are nothing compared to the peaks of human achievement, courage and compassion that he so well embodies.

Why look for heroes at the movies or in cartoons? Read this book and see how an ordinary bloke from New Zealand conquered the world's highest mountain - then went looking for more.

Remarkable autobiography by an outstanding man
I found this book a pleasant surprise, after having read a few mountaineering adventure books. If you are looking for one, look elsewhere; Hillary climbed Everest, but did not have any major mountaineering accomplishments thereafter. Instead, we see the picture of a simple man, a very likeable and sincere one, with flaws and virtues.

We can see his sneakiness in going for the south pole despite orders not to, we can see his dedication to the people of Nepal, we can see his somewhat estranged relationship with Tenzing and the tensions that arose after Tenzing said he had reached the summit first. The discussion is a futile one, but it seems to put a damper on the relationship.

In this book we also follow his life, not just his great conquests. We see the backstage of the lecture circuit he went through after Everest, then the honors he received and his attempt to maintain some normalcy in his life. Overall, it is a very good life book, and despite it being filled with adventures, we see the character of a person that is much more than simply an adventurer.

A fascinating story
I remember how exciting it was for those of us in London for Queen Elizabeth II's coronation (on June 2, 1953) to find out that Mount Everest had been climbed at last! And Sir Edmund Hillary's story of how he and Tenzing Norgay did it is terrific and even to my suspicious eyes seems sincere.

The portion of the book I was most curious about dealt with the Antarctic Expedition of 1957 to 1958. Hillary was the leader of the Ross Sea Party, which was to was to lay provisions between the Ross Sea and the South Pole to support the crossing of Antarctica by the Transpolar Party, starting from the Weddell Sea. The Transpolar Party was led by the overall expedition leader, Dr. Vivian (Bunny) Fuchs. The two parties reached the South Pole in January, 1958 after which they made it to the Ross Sea in less than six weeks. As the two parties neared the Pole, the telegrams between Bunny and Hillary were in all the newspapers. Vivian had told the story from his point of view in his 1958 book, "The Crossing of Antarctica," and even though that book also included eighteen pages written by Hillary, I was glad to see more of what Hillary had to say, especially with his perspective of writing about it so much later.

This entire book is worth reading and tells us plenty about the life of a successful adventurer.