K2_ Life and Death on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain - Ed Viesturs [159]
When I was closing in on the end of Endeavor 8000, some of Paula’s friends would say to her, “How can you stand it that Ed’s away so much? Don’t you worry about him? And don’t the kids miss him?” It’s true, I was gone for long stretches, and mountaineering is inevitably dangerous. But I liked to point out that when I was home, I was really there for Paula and the kids. I even told the kids that I probably spent more time with them each year than a dad who went off to his dreary nine-to-five job every day.
Ever since Paula and I got married, in February 1996, and especially after Gil, Ella, and Anabel were born, family has been the most important thing in my life, even more important than big mountains and climbing friendships. And since the summer of 2005, when I got home from Annapurna, I’ve been a true full-time dad. In the last year, we’ve divided our time between Bainbridge Island and Sun Valley, Idaho, where we’ve owned a condo since 2006. During the winter of 2008–09, the kids went to public school in Sun Valley, but we returned to Bainbridge for the summer. Time will tell how we’ll manage our dual residences in future years, but it’s nice to have options.
This year, the kids really missed their friends back home, but they love the recreational possibilities of Sun Valley. Gil and Ella have become demon skiers. I’m a pretty good skier myself, but when those two bomb straight down the slope, it’s all I can do to keep up with them.
At age eleven, Gil is the extrovert of the family. He loves conversation, and he just talks and talks. Paula and I tell him he has a future as a talk-show host. Both friends his age and adults think he’s hilarious. And he’s still madly into Seattle Seahawks football, even though, after the team went to the Super Bowl in 2006, their last three seasons have been pretty disappointing.
If Gil’s the extrovert, Ella, who just turned nine this June, is our introvert. She’s strong and stoic, never complains about a minor accident or some chore she has to do. Like me, she’s quiet in company, tending to recede when others dominate the conversation. She’s a great athlete, able to keep up with Gil on the ski slopes. She’s also taken up indoor sport climbing whenever she gets the chance. If one of our three kids becomes a mountaineer, it’ll probably be Ella.
Anabel, at four, is the little lover in the family. Without any particular pretext, she’ll come over to Paula or me and give us a kiss. Or she’ll crawl into my lap and say, “I love you, Dad.” But she’s not clingy—she’s a solid, independent gal in her own right.
As for Paula, she’s turned out to be a wonderful companion and the great mom I always knew she would be. She has a God-given talent for motherhood. And she doesn’t do it by spoiling the kids, or by using baby talk with them. I’m pleased to say that I’ve never heard any scuttlebutt from friends in Seattle or Sun Valley about our children being pampered or overindulged. Paula is, quite simply, the cornerstone of our family.
Before I decided to go to Everest again, Paula and I had some good long talks about it. We deliberated, in fact, longer than we had before any other expedition I’ve ever considered. Of course she worries about me every time I try an 8,000er. But Paula has always fully supported me, and the mental strength she sends my way while I’m climbing is, I’m convinced, part of why I’ve been successful. Without her support, I would never go on another expedition.
Paula has always insisted, “Don’t call me from the summit. Call me when you get back to camp.” She knows from experience that standing on the summit doesn’t mean that you’ve climbed the mountain.
In the spring of 2009, she knew I’d be gone for eight or nine weeks. She knew firsthand that Everest is dangerous—particularly the