I think I understand what Ed Viesturs means when he writes, “The mountain decides whether you climb or not.” And yet, there is a point at which the body, apart from the mountain or the mind, dictates a “stop.”
View from High Camp to the Summit.
Wilkerson reached that point in the night. It was a bitter decision to abandon his summit attempt and return to High Camp. Now, at half past ten in the morning, he looks up to the switchbacks and spots the summit group descending. We spot him as well. Nine hours have passed since our two groups parted—Celîl and the six heading up, Uraz and Wilkerson heading down.
Now, we reunite beside the little cluster of tents at High Camp. It is a bittersweet meeting. Uraz and Wilkerson embrace us one by one as we pole over boulders and into the camp. Wilkerson is physically sick; we are physically exhausted. Wilkerson is coping with the reality of missing the summit. We are elated, but subdued in the presence of our dear friend. We all smile weakly, awkwardly, and for different reasons.
He is the marathon runner. He is the former college football player. He is the natural athlete among us—and yet, he is the one who became sick. He celebrates with us, yet stands apart from us. It is a stunning contrast. Somehow, there is a deeper truth about the human condition lurking here. There are lessons to be had, each bigger than Ağrı Dağı: camaraderie, grace, priorities, family. We are finished, but God is not.
Rather than put words in Wilkerson’s mouth, I will let him describe it:
“‘The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.’ I remember growing up with those words on Wide World of Sports. Our team succeeded in having six of the seven enjoy the thrill of victory, while one suffered the agony of defeat. I am proud of the others... but I was the one who did not summit Mt. Ararat. Somehow I came down with an intestinal bug about 27 hours before summit day. Combined with a strenuous climb to the 14,000-foot camp, it completely sapped my strength, dehydrating me and preventing me from eating. I tried to make the summit anyway, but I just didn't have the strength.
I can only describe what these other men did that day as unbelievable. They scaled some of the most rugged terrain, climbing across and up a glacier in below-freezing temps and strong winds. They are mountain men! The team’s support, understanding, and concern for my condition was truly amazing. We turn to many things, people, and places for comfort in our moments of defeat. I turned to my wife, CJ, who wrote me a note from her, our children, and our grandchild for every single day I was gone. I returned to my tent and read all of them over and over while crying like a baby. Her comfort is a blessing. I am coming home with the experience of a lifetime to my best friend.”
We leave Wilkerson and Uraz and stumble to our tents, each carrying his own thoughts. Inside, Greg looks up and remarks: “The wind was so bad up there, it blew a contact right out of my eye!”