FILM| TORN: Max Lowe's Raw Reflections on Loss and Homage to a Family Transformed

The Lowe-Anker family set off on a journey to Tibet in 2017 to recover the body of renowned alpinist Alex Lowe, whose frozen remains were identified by climbers the year prior emerging from a melting glacier at the base of Shishapangma—an 8000-meter peak in Tibet. Max Lowe, Alex’s eldest son, filmed the experience, which served as the impetus for producing his award-winning film. Photo: Max Lowe

Interview by Mary Anne Potts

Filmmaker Max Lowe.

For filmmaker Max Lowe, perhaps the greatest story of his life is his own. And that is challenging. The son of two of the world’s best alpinists—his father Alex Lowe, died in 1999 in an avalanche on Shishapangma while climbing with his best friend, Conrad Anker, who later became a father to Alex’s three boys. The story has been intriguing to many, and has been chronicled in the film Meru and in Max’s mother’s book, Forget Me Not. But no one has had quite the vantage point as Max, the eldest son, who was ten when his dad died—old enough to remember and question the events and decisions of his family.

Now 33, Max began contributing to National Geographic after receiving a Young Explorers Grant in 2012. Ten years later—in autumn 2022—he released his documentary feature, Torn, with National Geographic Documentary Films, which takes an honest look at his extraordinary family. The film has been reviewed in The New York Times, The New Yorker, and various other publications. 

—Mary Anne Potts

Mary Anne Potts: Getting a film produced and distributed by National Geographic at any age is impressive, nevertheless under 40 years old. How did that come to be? 

TORN director Max Lowe with his father, the late Alex Lowe, who was the considered the world’s most accomplished alpinist when he was buried in a massive avalanche in 1999 on Shishapangma, an 8,000-meter peak in Tibet near its border with Nepal. Photo: Jenny Lowe-Anker

Max Lowe: I would say that completing this film has been the peak of a long and winding journey in my career as a storyteller. I never set out to direct feature films, much less did I ever expect ten years ago that this is what I would be doing for work. For me, storytelling has always been a tool by which I was able to access worlds beyond my own, whether that’s physical worlds that I might not have the confidence that I belonged in, or emotional realms of exploration with characters— and, indeed, myself, using a camera as the vehicle. The journey has truly been a thousand small steps to get to this point: a lot of just doing something because I believed that I could—not necessarily that I was totally qualified to—and being surrounded by an amazing network of peers and mentors who helped me find the way.

My partnership with National Geographic began with a grant for emerging storytellers under the age of 26, and two women at Nat Geo—Rebecca Martin and Mary Anne Potts—who saw the potential in me and helped foster it, which really set me on my way toward achieving what I have. As cheesy as it is, the metaphor of looking up at a mountain—at the same time realizing that it seems impossible, and yet you just start walking towards the distant summit—relates pretty accurately to how I have achieved most of the things in my life, including the completion of this film.

And just like my other important work, this film would never have happened if it weren't for my mentors and partners: my producer Chris Murphy, my editor Michael Harte and the support of all the people at Lightbox and National Geographic Docs.

“There was a lot of anxiety and other emotions that resurfaced leading into that trip. Uncertainty mainly—how would it feel to face my hero again, someone who I thought was lost forever?”

MAP: For those who do not know your family story from Meru, or your dad, Conrad Anker, or your mom's book Forget Me Not, how would you encapsulate what TORN is about?

ML: It’s really a story of love and family and how it is ever shifting throughout our lives, but never fully lost. The decision to let yourself love something fully might be the hardest decision of your life because you think it means you can’t have the rest of it, you’re “torn,” so to speak.  But figuring out we can open our hearts to someone without fully letting go of someone or something else is the real secret. That’s really the story Torn speaks to. How my family and myself can navigate through love and loss, and come out on the other side with an open heart for what comes next. 

MAP: It's such a deeply personal story, did you feel ready to tell it when you started? Or was the whole process a journey of personal discovery?

Alex and Jenny Lowe with Max (left) and brother Sam, on one of their frequent family ski trips to Utah. Before starting a family, Alex and Jenny worked for a time on avalanche patrol in Utah.

Photo: Lowe Family Collection

ML: The first time I spoke about my family’s story from my side of the lens, I didn’t think I was ready. But could anyone ever really be ready to lay out all their inner struggles and grief to the public? As emotional as it first was to do that, I learned so much about myself in the process of telling my own story, just by allowing myself to be vulnerable about the truth of it with others. It was after that experience that I really fully recognized the power in vulnerability, and in what people could garner and see in themselves from how I navigated through my own grief.

MAP: Where are some of the places you shot this film?

ML: A lot of the film was shot in the place where the story really happened, our home in Bozeman, Montana. There are also shots in Colorado, Nepal, and Tibet in the real time footage, although the archive presented spans the globe from Antarctica, to Baffin Island, Wyoming and Italy. 

MAP: Going to Shishapangma to recover Alex's body from the glacier was when this film "started." Tell us about that trip.

ML: There was a lot of anxiety and other emotions that came back up to the surface leading into that trip. Uncertainty mainly—how would it feel to face my hero again, someone who I thought was lost forever. There’s no way to prepare for something like that. That’s part of the reason I wanted to film it. Being behind the lens felt like it gave me a sense of comfort and space from the beyond-fictional reality through that trip, and having filmed it, I could process some of those emotions deeper from watching me and my family go through it. It was coming out of that trip I think that I first began to see what Torn could and would become. 

MAP: The Khumbu Climbing Center, which educates Nepali people in technical climbing skills, is in honor of Alex. Why?

ML: Alex spent a lot of time in that region and always felt at home there. They gave so much to him in friendship and partnership, and it was a place he always wanted to share with his family. So after Alex’s death, and my mom and Conrad started to think about ways they could honor Alex and his life, doing something for the communities of people who live climbing in the most intimate and visceral way—that Alex had such a close tie to—was a clear choice. My parents started the Khumbu Climbing Center as a project of the Alex Lowe Charitable Foundation, a larger organization to support all indigenous mountain people to have safer livelihoods as mountain workers.

MAP: Your dads are known for their elite climbing expeditions to some of the most storied—and dangerous—mountains in the world. How has their living on the edge shaped your choice to be behind the camera?

ML: Growing up, and looking up to each of my parents, it always seemed to me that they chose and led these wild, adventurous lives on the edge of what for most might seem acceptable. Alex, especially, was a charismatic guy always chasing a full life, and doing it fast so as to not miss out on the next thing. I think unconsciously I saw that, and just pinned that up as my objective in life as well—to do the things I’m passionate about and do it with courage and grace. Not allowing fear of the unknown to thwart decisions on how they shaped their lives is something that each of my parents have done well. That’s what I strive for. 

Conrad Anker, Alex’s Lowe’s best friend and longtime climbing partner who survived the avalanche where Alex perished, would step in to adopt Max and his brothers Isaac (middle left) and Sam (middle right)—when he married their mother, Jenny Lowe, a couple years after the loss of their father. Photo: Jenny Lowe-Anker

MAP: What have you learned through processing the loss of your father—and "adopting" a new father—that would be helpful to others, particularly during this period of tremendous loss due to the pandemic?

ML: I think I and many others struggle with letting ourselves be truly happy or love again after losing someone close to them. In some ways you worry about the person you lost and what they might think if they saw you moving forward, leaving them behind. I struggled with that at a really young age after losing Alex and still am trying to grieve that loss I think—much of that being tied into my need to make this film. I think I have learned that that trauma and grief isn’t something that ever goes away: It sticks with us, just like the person we lost, and we just have to constantly work to manage that as part of ourselves. But just because you’re working through that grief or loss, doesn’t mean you still can’t have the happy parts too. You can miss someone and still love someone else, and I think that is where I eventually found myself in my relationship with Conrad. I still loved and held Alex in this place of high regard to who I was, but eventually I learned to let Conrad in as my dad. 

“First and foremost just follow your intuition on the direction you might want to go, the stories you might want to be a part of, and then just take the first steps in that direction. Storytelling is an art of emotion, so let your feelings lead the way.”

MAP: You have been making films for years, but this is certainly the pinnacle. What draws you to storytelling?

ML: The people. I love hearing someone tell their story, see how they learn something, maybe even in that moment by sharing it with me. Through hearing those stories I learn more about myself and I know others do as well. It’s one of the biggest pleasures in my life, being trusted to listen and then paint a picture of someone’s truth through my lens. Selfishly, being able to step into the shoes of different people across the globe, and see for a moment the magic of what drives their passions, fears, loves—it's one of the most amazing gifts. 

MAP: What advice do you have for other people wanting to get film projects underwritten?

ML: I would say first and foremost just follow your intuition on the direction you might want to go, the stories you might want to be a part of, and then just take the first steps in that direction. Storytelling is an art of emotion, so let your feelings lead the way. From there, my greatest strength has always been the people I surrounded myself with, I now count some of my greatest inspirations as my closest friends. If you surround yourself with people who are also striving for creativity then you're going to feel much more confident in your own dreams and endeavors. 

MAP: What comes next from here?

ML: I am not totally sure to be honest! Most of my career the thing I have been working on in the present has led me in some way to the next thing. I am very much hoping to develop and direct another feature documentary, but I am also looking into the series space, and maybe even narrative space someday. I have learned so much about how powerful human stories can be through the making of Torn, and I think you can apply that in so many ways. I hope in my long form work as well as short film and photo work to have some greater impact on the world as well, either from a social or ecological standpoint. It feels like our society is on the brink right now of great and sweeping change, and as an artist, you hope to shape how that change may occur. 

You can learn more about Max Lowe on his website and on Instagram. If you are interested in booking Max for a presentation, please contact us.

Mary Anne Potts is an editor and journalist based in Denver Colorado, and serves as Exploration Connections Writer at Large. Follow her on Instagram.

Glacial ice scape forms its own ridges and peaks at the base of 26,335-foot Shishapangma in Tibet, where Max and his family trekked to retrieve the body of his father swept away in an avalanche 18 years prior. Photo: Max Lowe

BOOK | Zero Waste Living the 80/20 Way—Three Steps Toward a Lighter Footprint

Stephanie Miller, former head of the Climate Business Group at the International Finance Corporation, morphed her work on climate solutions into a personal campaign toward a lighter carbon footprint—finding solutions in her own life that greatly diminished her family’s carbon-related consumption, as well as their waste. She shares her journey of discovery in a succinct, engaging book filled with easy-to-adopt everyday tips. Photo: Courtesy Ibrahim Ajaja/The World Bank

“Zero Waste Living the 80/20 Way is a little green guide that revolutionized my perspective on reducing my carbon and waste footprint.”  —Faith Model

Last fall, a friend and I were bemoaning the flood of single use plastic we were seeing as a result of the pandemic. We were simultaneously choking on smoke from the forest fires suffocating our small Wyoming town. Worried and frustrated, we felt powerless in the face of climate change in an increasingly divided and fractious world. I often threw around the idea of going vegan, buying an electric car, and living off the grid, but it’s a lot easier to talk about those things than to take action on them (especially with two young children who adore butter and cheese). The least I could do was reduce our plastic use, but everywhere I turned I saw plastic—it was inescapable! I felt stuck. When spring arrived I was introduced to Stephanie Miller’s book, Zero Waste Living the 80/20 Way: The Busy Person’s Guide to a Lighter Footprint. It’s a little green guide that revolutionized my perspective and approach to reducing my carbon and waste footprint. 

Faith Model’s daughter, Lulu, places food scraps in their new compost bucket, while brother Seppe looks on. Photo: Faith Model

Stephanie Miller spent her career tackling big issues: climate change, poverty, and empowering women. When she left her job as director of the Climate Business Department—and then as Director of Western Europe—at the International Finance Corporation (IFC) to spend more time with her son, her work in green building solutions was one of IFC’s greatest climate success stories. During her year off, however, she turned her focus inward and began asking different, more personal, questions:  “What can we—as individuals—do to reverse the current climate and waste crises? Could individual actions have a ripple effect that could lead to systemic change? If so, how could busy people make the necessary changes?” Instead of throwing her hands up in the air as I had done, her year off turned into an extensive research project that culminated in this powerful little manual. And thanks to Stephanie, my family is now starting to compost, we eat more plant-based meals, and I just started buying used clothes. I spoke with Stephanie earlier this summer. —Faith Model

Interview by Faith Model

Faith Model: You had a successful 25-year career working for the International Finance Corporation (IFC), ten of which were working on implementing ambitious and achievable climate change mitigation strategies at the institutional level. What motivated your shift in focus from macro change to individual change?

Stephanie Miller: I was lucky in my career to hold positions that had a lot of meaning to me. I loved being able to shape the institution’s direction on climate change and I felt privileged to work with businesses and governments trying to do the right thing. But I didn’t love the contradiction I often felt when I would come home from work and realized I wasn’t doing much in my own life to ensure I was living sustainably.

I admit feeling paralyzed and overwhelmed by all the ways in which I was not doing enough. I knew, for example, that my transportation choices were very carbon intensive: Flying frequently for work didn’t feel like a choice, but driving every day to work—though time saving for me—always made me feel guilty. My thinking went something like this: “If I can’t do anything about the really big choices then why bother with the other stuff? How much difference would it make anyway?”

Then, two years ago, I left my career at the IFC and decided to take a “gap year” before heading into my next endeavor. I suddenly had time on my hands to figure out what I could do in my personal life that would make a difference in addressing the waste and climate crises. I did a lot of research, visited all the recycling facilities in my area, got my local dry cleaners to adopt a reusable bag program, began eating a more plant-based diet and started composting. And my research showed me that I could make a difference.

“The 80/20 principle comes from economics: It simply refers to the idea that not all actions are equal and there’s often a rule of thumb that with just 20% effort on the right things, we can achieve 80% of the results we are seeking.”

FM:  When I picked up your book I was very curious about the concept of an 80/20 approach to zero waste living. Can you explain what you mean by that?

SM: Yes, I love this concept. The 80/20 principle comes from economics: It simply refers to the idea that not all actions are equal and there’s often a rule of thumb that with just 20% effort on the right things, we can achieve 80% of the results we are seeking.  For example, at my workplace we used to say 80% of our business comes from just 20% of our clients. We put a lot of effort into nurturing those client relationships.

 There are thousands of actions we can take to try to get to a zero waste lifestyle. But they are not equally impactful. So, I set out to find the easiest, most impactful things I could do to live sustainably. In other words, I set out on a quest to find the 80/20 rule for zero waste living.

A largely plant-based diet is one of the most important steps we can take as individuals to decrease our carbon footprint. Here, Stephanie buys micro greens—placed in her reusable cotton produce bag—at the Palisades Farmer’s Market in Washington, DC. Photo: Corey Sulser

FM: You came up with three guiding objectives: Focus on food, purge plastic, recycle right. You call these “the magic three.” What makes these three initiatives so valuable?

SM: The 80/20 rule led me to these three themes. My goal in combing through the many sustainable actions we can each take is finding actions that lie at the intersection of ease and impact.

For example, it may be highly impactful to quit flying, but that’s not always a choice. Our job may require us to travel, and we want to visit our relatives and friends. So avoiding air travel does not make the 80/20 cut (I do always try to reduce my carbon footprint by booking direct flights).

On the other hand, I realized that actions related to food, plastics and recycling were relatively easy to implement, and highly impactful. That’s why these three themes became my guiding objectives.

“Not all animal protein is equal...a kilogram of beef is responsible for 60 kilograms of carbon emissions. But a kilogram of chicken is responsible for six kilograms, 10 times less than beef. And a kilogram of wild-caught fish is responsible for half as much as chicken—3 kilograms of carbon emissions.”

FM: You stated that the single most influential thing we can do to reduce our carbon footprint is to adopt a plant-based diet. But for some people, that’s a tall order. If they don’t want to completely give up meat, are there other action steps they can take?

SM: Yes and there are two action steps I recommend. First: Adopt a more plant-based diet. This does not necessarily mean becoming a vegetarian, it simply means putting more emphasis on plant-based meals.

My goal for our household is to try to eat three to four vegetarian dinners every week. My breakfasts are already plant-based, as are most of my lunches. But dinner has been a tougher nut to crack. I’ve found some great vegetarian meals that are winners in our household and easy to prepare. I’m just now trying recipes from the cookbook, The Zero Waste Chef. I am really enjoying the dishes and the philosophy behind them.

The second thing I recommend is to consider the carbon intensity of food.  Not all animal protein is equal. For example, a kilogram of beef is responsible for 60 kilograms of carbon emissions. But a kilogram of chicken is responsible for six kilograms—or ten times less than beef. And a kilogram of wild-caught fish is responsible for half as much as chicken: Three kilograms of carbon emissions.  Every meal is a choice. The more often we choose the less carbon intensive meal, the better.

FM: What I learned about food waste shocked me. For one thing, I didn’t realize food waste was such an enormous contributor to greenhouse gas emissions (8% of global emissions). What exactly is food waste and how much of the responsibility belongs to the individual households?

SM: This was a shocker for me as well. Food waste occurs along the entire supply chain: At the farm level, in grocery stores, hotels, restaurants and in households. What was so surprising to me is that in the U.S., the largest source of food waste occurs in households. According to a 2019 study by the U.S. non-profit, ReFED, consumers account for nearly 40 percent of food waste (compared to the food service sector, which accounts for less than 16 percent).

What’s empowering about this is that households can do something about the problem. Some food waste is unavoidable: Things like banana peels and chicken bones. But most food waste is the result of bringing more food into our homes than we can consume.  The obvious way to solve the problem is to do meal planning and always grocery shop with a list. But once the food is in your home, you need a strategy. There are a few things that have worked well for us in drastically reducing our food waste:

A two-minute daily rundown of what needs to be consumed next in the fridge, notes Stephanie, is an important step in avoiding carbon-producing food waste. Photo: Stephanie Miller

• We do a daily fridge review. It takes two minutes and really makes a difference. Move forward any food that will go bad in the next day or two. We place these items on a shelf labelled, “Eat Me First.” And we store most food in clear Pyrex containers or glass jars, so everything is visible.

• We use our freezer liberally. I am amazed at how many foods I can successfully freeze: All kinds of dairy, soup stock, fresh herbs, tomato paste, and leftover lemon juice. This is a game changer in reducing food waste and saving trips to the grocery store.

• We have instituted a weekly leftovers night, which ensures we eat the things we have good intentions to finish.

FM: I’ve always considered carbon dioxide to be the bad boy of greenhouse gas emissions. But it sounds like methane deserves that title far more than Co2. Why is this so important to understand?

SM: Yes, methane is one of the bad boys known as “super climate pollutants” or “short-lived climate pollutants.” These do not stay in the atmosphere for long but they are much more damaging in the short term than CO2. 

For more about these pollutants, there’s a great new book out on the subject which lays out the problem but also explains why there’s hope if we stop emitting these super pollutants quickly. The book is called Cut Super Climate Pollutants Now! and I highly recommend it. It’s a short but compelling read.

FM:  Why is composting so important? 

In her backyard, Stephanie covers her compost with leaves from her yard. The composting process requires a year for food scraps, dried leaves and other plant matter to decompose into a nutrient-rich soil perfect for gardening. Photo: Matt Harrington

SM: Aside from ensuring we eat what we buy, composting is one of the best ways to reduce the greenhouse gas emissions associated with food waste. One of the reasons food waste is a climate change problem is that it produces methane when the food decomposes without oxygen in landfills.  Methane is a greenhouse gas far more potent than carbon dioxide. When we compost food waste, oxygen is introduced into the decomposition process so methane emissions are avoided.

 While it’s best, of course, to reduce food waste as much as possible, the unavoidable food waste we produce (like egg shells, vegetable peels and even coffee grounds) can be easily combined with leaves and other “browns” to decompose with the help of oxygen, heat and moisture. In time, the result is a wonderful organic soil rich in nutrients and a gardener’s delight.

Backyard composting even in winter: Coffee grounds and egg shells can also be combined with produce food scraps. Photo: Stephanie Miller

FM:  The impact of the beef industry on climate change is astonishing—14.5% of global greenhouse gas emissions. But are all cattle operations created equal? I wonder about buying local grass-finished beef. Is that just as bad as your average feedlot cow?

SM: You’re absolutely right…the greenhouse gas emissions from the beef industry depend a lot on the type of cattle operation. But what I’ve come to understand is that it’s not as straightforward as we might think.

The greenhouse gas emissions from the beef industry depend on several factors, not just whether the cows eat grass versus grain. We associate cows with methane production due to their digestive process, but methane and nitrous oxide—both very potent greenhouse gases—are also produced when the soil is damaged from overgrazing. There’s a movement known as regenerative agriculture that tries to address this by ensuring careful management of livestock grazing, including reduction in pesticides and fertilizers, carbon sequestration, and topsoil restoration.

From a health perspective, grass-fed beef is certainly a healthier option. My own doctor has recommended I choose this option when eating beef. My personal bottom line on this subject: I limit myself to one beef-based meal per month and I choose grass-fed beef for that meal.

“Plastic production is a large contributor to climate change and is toxic to the health of residents and workers near plastic production facilities… And even for those who do not live near such facilities, data shows we are all ingesting and breathing in microplastics, the health effects of which are only now being studied.”

FM:  Purging plastics seems so pressing and so overwhelming, especially after this past year where we witnessed so much single plastic use because of the pandemic. But why is plastic the scourge of the Earth? What makes it so harmful on so many levels?

SM: Plastics—especially single-use plastics—are so ubiquitous and so hard to avoid. And we saw more of it than ever during the pandemic.

Stephanie approached the owners of President Valet, her dry cleaner in Washington, DC, proposing they offer reusable garment bags, rather than wrapping clean clothing in single-use plastic. The idea has taken off, and the bags are now used by a third of their customers. A major contributor to plastic waste, a staggering 300 million pounds of single-use plastic from dry cleaning packaging ends up in the US landfill every year. Photo: Stephanie Miller

Plastics are harmful in many ways. First, there’s the obvious effect on our ecosystems. We’ve seen the pictures of ocean gyres as large as countries and the close-up picture of the sea turtle with a plastic straw stuck in its nostril.  But besides the damage to our fragile ecosystems, there are many other ways in which plastic does harm.

Plastic production is a large contributor to climate change and is toxic to the health of residents and workers near plastic production facilities. Plastics are an environmental justice issue, as most petrochemical facilities and plastic-burning incinerators are located near communities of color, low-income communities and Indigenous communities. And even for those who do not live near such facilities, data shows we are all ingesting and breathing in microplastics, the health effects of which are only now being studied.

Mr. and Mrs. In, the owners of President Valet, report their customers love the reusable garment bags that Stephanie encouraged them to create and sell for dry cleaning pickup. Photo: Stephanie Miller

These issues are what drive many individuals in the zero waste movement to do all they can to reduce their contribution to the plastics problem. It is certainly what drives me to make my best possible effort.

But it would be unfair to assume that individuals can solve the plastics crisis. There is so much that needs to be done by government and businesses to get at the root of the problem. It’s very encouraging to see some of the legislation that is starting to surface at the state and national level. This year, Maine became the first state to establish an “extended producer responsibility” (known as EPR) program requiring companies that create consumer packaging to pay for the cost of recycling it. A similar bill in Oregon was recently signed by the governor.

At the national level, the Break Free From Plastic Pollution Act of 2021 would do a lot to drastically reduce the amount of plastic pollution in the U.S. by reducing plastic production, phasing out disposable plastics, and increasing recycling rates including by shifting responsibility for waste management and recycling to manufacturers. It’s worth taking a moment to let your members of Congress know that passing this bill is important to you. It matters a lot.

“When we do shop in grocery stores, I look out for those that have package-free, “naked produce” options, as well as dried goods in bulk. We bring our own reusable cotton bags for everything from apples and lettuce in the produce section to rice and cashews in the bulk sections.”

FM: What are some of the ways you’ve reduced plastic in your own household? 

SM: There are some really easy ways to reduce your household’s plastic: We shop for seasonal food as much as possible and frequent our local farmer’s markets. What I love about the farmer’s market is that you can almost always bring your own containers and bags—vendors are happy to save on their own packaging. Plus the food is local, fresh and delicious.

When we do shop in grocery stores, I look out for items that have package-free, “naked produce” options, and dried goods in bulk. We bring our reusable cotton bags for everything from apples and lettuce to rice and cashews. We throw the reusable bags inside the grocery bags we keep in our car.

Selecting “naked,” package-free produce at the the farmer’s market, Stephanie places the items in her own reusable produce bags. Photo: Corey Sulser

We also avoid beverages in plastic bottles. I take my reusable water bottle with me everywhere. For juice or milk, cardboard-based containers like Tetrapak are more easily recyclable than plastic. In our quest to avoid single-use packaging, we were excited to find a local dairy farm that delivers milk in glass bottles that can be returned empty the following week!

For household goods, these are some of the easiest switches to make:

• Use bar soap instead of using liquid soap. And buy soap package free, if possible.

• Use cloth napkins instead of paper on a daily basis instead of just for special occasions. This saves on plastic packaging as well.

• Avoid using paper towels by creating a non-paper towel system: Use a stack of washcloths as substitute paper towels, and wash them with your other towels.

FM: I’ve been fed up with how many “health food” companies are still using plastic packaging. So I recently wrote to one of them and asked them about it. I received an enthusiastic response stating that they had shifted from petroleum-based plastic to “industrial compostable plant-based material.” It sounds encouraging, but I wonder if it’s just another form of greenwashing… How do you feel about bioplastics?

SM: So, first of all, I think it’s fantastic that you wrote to the company and told them you would prefer they not use plastic packaging. No matter what business decision they end up making, you are a paying customer and they care what you think.

I have really mixed views about bioplastics and other so-called compostable materials. As long as we, the customers, are the ones responsible for disposal of packaging, it’s unrealistic to assume that we have access to “industrial composting facilities,” which means this packaging will likely not actually be composted but contribute to the waste stream. However, I do find it encouraging whenever we can move away from petroleum-based plastic. The production process for plastics is so toxic that it’s always worth exploring alternatives.

FM: What do you mean by “recycle right”?

SM: “Recycle right” simply means knowing your jurisdiction’s recycling rules and following them carefully.

Stephanie and her family have all but eliminated paper towels in their home, opting instead to keep a basket of washcloths on their countertop. Paper towel use in the US tops out at 13 billion pounds annually—far exceeding any other country. A ton of the disposable wipes consumes 17 trees and 20,000 gallons of water. Photo: Reyn Anderson

I was struck a few years ago by a data point I came across in Paul Hawken’s Drawdown: The Most Comprehensive Plan Ever Proposed to Reverse Global Warming. The authors show that if household recycling rates improved enough that the “laggards” (countries and cities whose recycling rates are 35 percent or lower) increased their recycling rates to the levels of the front-runners (with recycling rates of 65 percent or more), we could avoid greenhouse gas emissions per year equivalent to taking 600 million cars off the road. That’s hugely impactful!

Recycling is something many of us think about on a daily basis, so why not spend a few minutes getting it right? It’s as simple as doing an online search for “recycling rules near me” to learn about your local guidelines. This search should direct you to the website maintained by your local government body that administers the recycling program. It’s in their interest that you get it right, so they provide great materials on “do’s and don’ts” that you can print and place near your recycling point in your home.

About half of the U.S. population has access to a residential recycling program. My hope is that the other half will have improved access as a result of some of the pending legislation.  Meanwhile, for the rest of us, we can feel pretty good about the contribution we are making by recycling with intention, an individual act that makes a difference.

FM: Can you explain “wish cycling” and some of the other pitfalls people fall into with recycling?

SM: Ah, “wish cycling!” This is when we place something in the recycle bin that we really hope is acceptable but we are just not sure. We have all done this, right? I know I used to.

The problem with “wish cycling” is that, if we get it wrong, we are creating inefficiency in the system. (We indirectly pay for this inefficiency through our local taxes). What is worse is that wish cycling can create contamination for the rest of the otherwise-recyclable items in the bin or even cause worker safety issues.

The worst offender—and I admit I used to do this!—is when we toss our recyclables in a plastic bag before placing them in the bin. That plastic bag does not belong in the recycle bin. Why? If it is not caught early in the sorting process, it can get stuck in the metal rollers, gum up the machinery, shut down the entire facility for hours, and possibly cause worker injury when they try to remove the plastic bag.

In fact, this is the most common mistake well-intentioned individuals make. The thin plastic film is recyclable but not by residential programs. Instead, this and other flimsy, stretchy plastic packaging (think: newspaper bags, bread bags, dry cleaning plastic wrap) can be brought to participating stores which partner with private companies to turn plastic film into items such as flooring and decking. In my area, participating stores include Giant, Safeway and Whole Foods.

FM:  The iconic 3 R’s: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. We all know this slogan, but to be honest, I’ve only ever taken action on the recycle piece. Recycling is such a straightforward concept (in theory) whereas reducing and reusing seem sort of vague and easier to shrug off. But after reading your book I have a whole new perspective! Can you talk about the relevance of embracing “reduce” and “reuse”? 

SM: You are not alone. As you say, recycling is something most of us think about every week, if not every day. The concepts of reduce and reuse are not as clear.

“I am not advocating not buying anything ever again, but it has helped me a lot to use some tricks to stop myself from impulse buying. One trick is to stop all non-food purchases for a period of time. A Buy Nothing Month forces me to put things I think I want on a list…”

What is important about the 3 R’s slogan is that there is an order to it. Recycling comes last because it takes energy to recycle, and resources and energy were already used to produce the item. “Reduce” comes first because it is the best of our options. The beauty of “reducing” is that, if we never buy the thing to begin with, then we have avoided using our consumer influence to signal demand for the item and we don’t have to worry whether it’s disposable when we’re done with it. No extraction of natural resources was needed for the item you never bought, no energy was needed to produce it, and we are not contributing to the waste crisis.

Refilling soap bottles at a zero waste shop—Mason & Greens—in Alexandria, Virginia, saves scores of plastic bottles each year and lessens the load on recycling. Photo: Robin Weisman

So how do we begin to reduce?

I am not advocating not buying anything ever again, but it has helped me a lot to use some tricks to stop myself from impulse buying. One trick is to stop all non-food purchases for a period of time: A “Buy Nothing Month” forces me to put things I think I want on a list. At the end of the month, I can ask myself whether I really need that thing.

Another shift that has made a big difference is gifting my friends and family experiences, rather than things.

For “reuse,” I also have some things I do that help:

A few close friends set up a WhatsApp group where we agree to let each other know when we need to borrow something or are looking to give something away…a kitchen gadget, an extra tomato plant, a sewing machine. Why buy something new when you only need to use it once or twice?

 I’m also more careful than I used to be about finding a new home for items I no longer need, so they have a better chance of being reused instead of trashed.  Neighborhood list serves are great for this. I have had a lot of success with the Trash Nothing app, where I post a picture of an item that could be used by someone else. I often have items taken off my hands within 24 hours.

FM: What is the difference between biodegradable and compostable and why is it important to know the difference?  

SM: The term “biodegradable” refers to a product that can be decomposed without oxygen and degrades within a reasonable period of time. But this term is not used consistently and leads to a lot of confusion. The term “compostable” assumes oxygen is used in the decomposition process. All compostable items are biodegradable but not all biodegradable items are compostable.

FM: I’m really motivated by your book, but I also feel like my effort toward zero-waste is a choice that I’m privileged enough to consider. I wonder about all the people out there who are barely scraping by, who don’t have the time or resources to even think about their carbon and waste footprint. Do you feel like the zero-waste movement is a choice mostly available to the privileged? 

Yes and no. I actually get this question a lot and I think it’s a good one to ask.

My simple answer is that adopting a zero-waste lifestyle will look different for everyone because everyone’s situation is different.  I always say: Do what you can. No matter what, the goal is to do the easy and impactful things.  Most of us cannot quit our jobs to become climate activists.

A single mom living paycheck to paycheck will want to get her children nutritious meals as often as possible and cooking at home is the best way to ensure this. But time is the issue. Cooking a couple of meals, in large quantities, on a day off can go a long way. And freezing some of the leftovers in smaller portions provides meals for another evening. 

You don’t need money to avoid food waste. In fact, reducing food waste saves a lot of money. According to Recycle Track Systems, Inc, the average American family of four throws out $1,600 a year in produce. But whether you are wealthy or financially strapped—you do need a plan for what you bring home. Planning weekly meals and always grocery shopping with a list are key to avoiding excess purchases. 

Those who are privileged tend to have more time and more money. This may mean they have the luxury of going to the farmers’ market on the weekend for fresh, local, organic produce and go to a zero-waste bulk store on another day for unpackaged lentils and rice. They are sending signals with their consumer dollars, so that’s important. Everyone should do what they can.

FM: After reading your book I feel far more empowered about what I, as an individual, can do. Yet, I still feel this nagging sense that it’s not enough. I live in a conservative community where most people are in various stages of climate change denial, cattle ranching is a way of life, and there is extremely limited recycling (no curbside, no glass, no aseptic, etc). There is also plastic, plastic everywhere. In communities like mine, it feels like there is too much onus on a consumer that has no interest in changing their behavior. What advice do you have for me?

Stephanie visited the Materials Recycling Facility in Maryland while working on her book, Zero Waste Living the 80/20 Way. Photo: Kath Campbell

SM: Just as we discussed before, everyone’s situation is different and every community is different. 

In an ideal world, we are surrounded by sustainability-minded people, there are abundant farmer’s markets and bulk shopping opportunities in our vicinity, our tap water is safe to drink, and residential recycling is available.

 In the real world, many folks live in areas where local grocers do not offer fresh unpackaged produce, let alone bulk shopping; half of the U.S. population does not have access to a residential recycling program; and many people live in communities without safe drinking water.

I would advise you to go easy on yourself and look for the opportunities that do exist. Tackling food waste in your home and adopting a more plant-based diet are highly impactful actions that do not rely on others.

Other zero waste activities are doable on your own and even better when they are noticed by others: We have power through our own behaviors in setting new social norms. If you have safe drinking water, carry your reusable bottle with you wherever you go. When others notice this, you make this practice more socially acceptable. When you go out to eat, bring a reusable container with you for leftovers. Again, when others notice, all the better.

As a like-minded friend recently said to me: Imagine if everyone we knew did what we do! It would make all the difference.

To learn more of Stephanie’s tips on lessening your carbon and waste footprint, purchase her book, Zero Waste Living the 80/20 Way, on Amazon. You can learn more about her work by visiting her website, and on Instagram.

If you are interested in having Stephanie Miller present at an event, please contact us.

Faith Model is a writer based in Cody, Wyoming. Connect with Faith on Instagram. 

At farmer’s markets berries are sold in paper baskets, rather than the ubiquitous plastic clamshell containers which are not recyclable. Photo: Corey Sulser

Losang Rabgey Presents at The World Bank Forum on Understanding Risk

Dr. Losang Rabgey, who presented recently at The World Bank’s International Forum on Understanding Risk, developed the non-profit, Machik, with her sister, Dr. Tashi Rabgey, and her parents. Their first task—to build a school for children in a village in eastern Tibet where their father was born. Here, Dr. Rabgey joins attendees of their Summer Enrichment Program which engaged young students from across Tibet in innovative learning activities.

By Rebecca Martin

Photos: Machik Collection

In December 2020, The World Bank convened its 2020 Understanding Risk Global Forum, and Exploration Connections speaker Dr. Losang Rabgey delivered an enthusiastically-received plenary keynote address to an audience of 3,000 attendees on the advantages of managing risk through empathy-based decision-making.

While the biennial event was scheduled to take place in Singapore, due to the pandemic, the packed three-day forum quickly turned virtual, with thousands participating from across the globe. The Forum convenes experts globally to share best practices and innovation in disaster risk identification. It also has the goal of facilitating new partnerships and non-traditional interactions.

“Generally, there is a risk calculation tendency to focus on what can be lost from a zero-sum standpoint. But I would like to flip that equation and talk about what can be gained in terms of thinking about empathy and compassion when considering risk.”

Rabgey, who is the Executive Director of the non-profit, Machik—which she co-founded with her sister, Dr. Tashi Rabgey—spoke of her organization’s work on the ground in Tibet, which commenced with a school her family built with her parent’s savings in a remote mountain community called Chungba—where her father was born. The children who attend the school are largely from pastoralist and agricultural families, and were not receiving education prior to the founding of the Chungba School.

Today, while the school continues to thrive in eastern Tibet with some 800 students in attendance each year, Rabgey’s non-profit, Machik, now engages Tibetans and others interested in Tibetan culture and social innovation on a global scale. Their programming and aid activities reach the diaspora Tibetan community through a number of unique programs they developed in recent years.

Dr. Rabgey framed the core concepts of her keynote speech in the following statement:

”I believe we need to take pause to reflect on our decision-making around risk. Generally, there is a risk calculation tendency to focus on what can be lost from a zero-sum standpoint. But I would like to flip that equation and talk about what can be gained in terms of thinking about empathy and compassion when considering risk.”

Understanding Risk organizers Simone Balog-Way and Emma Phillips referred to Dr. Rabgey’s presentation as a “wonderful and inspiring contribution to the event,” emphasizing their appreciation of Rabgey’s unique focus on the importance of incorporating empathy in the process of decision-making.

Noted Rabgey in her concluding remarks: “I think now more than ever we need to understand, imagine and dare to think of risk in new ways, and to place empathy and compassion at the center of the risk calculation.”

To learn more about Dr. Losang Rabgey and the work of Machik, you can go to Instagram and Facebook.

If you are interested in having Losang Rabgey present at an event, please contact us.

Rabgey and her family, through their small non-profit, Machik, built a school in eastern Tibet in the village of Chungba, which is nestled at 12,500 feet amidst verdant peaks and high pastures. Within six years, these rural children were rated at the top academically among hundreds of schools in the region. Many went on to high school, and then to higher education. Noted Rabgey in her talk, it was her family’s willingness to take a risk that was born of empathy that ultimately provided life-changing opportunities for these youth. Their risk produced incalculable results that have now changed the trajectory of the students’ lives and of the Chungba community as a whole.

BOOK | Winter 8000: Climbing the World’s Highest Mountains in the Coldest Season

REVIEW

“The only thing we truly want is to have a dream so strong it lets us feel young and alive… That it’s never too late for dreams, and no dream is so big and so beckoning or so icy it’s impossible.”  —Simone Moro, Winter 8000

Bone-chilling cold and wild winds wrap the upper reaches of the 8000-meter peak Nanga Parbat during the winter 2006-7 attempt by an all-Polish team. Photo: Tommy Heinrich

Review and Interview by Jack Tackle

Bernadette McDonald’s latest book, Winter 8000, chronicles one of the most compelling mountaineering stories of struggle, loss and triumph of the human spirit in modern times. The book is a captivating historical narrative of the insanely grueling quest of climbing 8000-meter peaks in winter, and it is timely: This winter ten Nepalis summited  K2—the last of the 8000-meter peaks to be scaled in the coldest season. Sadly, five climbers on other teams at K2 this season died while making the attempt.

In the 1980s after numerous expeditions to Alaska, China, and the Karakoram of Pakistan, I became enthralled with the idea of climbing hard winter routes in the Tetons of Wyoming. Alex Lowe and I shared the vision of using first ascents of the ice-laden faces on the Grand Teton and Mount Moran as our training ground. There we developed the skills and experience needed in the greater ranges of Alaska, Patagonia, and the Himalayas.

As a veteran of 35 expeditions to Alaska and 17 first ascents of technical alpine faces there, I am often asked, why I have never attempted first winter ascents in Alaska too. My answer: It’s ALWAYS winter on Denali! Cold, dark, miserable.

Jet stream winds and searing Arctic cold of negative 40 degrees F are common Denali even during the regular climbing season, and its latitude at three degrees south of the Arctic Circle, accounts for a lot of that weather. The same goes for most of the other 5000-meter peaks in the Alaska and the Logan-St Elias ranges.     

Polish climbers Krzysztof Wielicki (left) and Leszek Cichy celebrating the first winter ascent of an 8000-meter peak at Everest base camp in February 1980. Considered the greatest challenge in alpinism, it took 40 years for all 14 8000-meter peaks to be climbed in winter. Photo: Bogdan Jankowski

Understanding in no uncertain terms what it means to be cold, it is astounding to imagine taking that concept and applying it to all fourteen 8000-meter peaks in the Himalaya!  Many of us are familiar with the now common practice of climbing the Seven Summits—the highest peaks on all seven continents.  As of this writing,  43 people have climbed all 14 of the 8000-meter peaks.  An even shorter and far more elite list of people have concentrated on climbing 8000-meter peaks in the unforgiving conditions found in winter, many of them Poles.

From the beginning of the book, I was enthralled with McDonald’s relationship with the Poles and Andrzej Zawada, the champion and leader of the Ice Warriors, an elite group of hardened Polish mountaineers who comprised most of the winter expeditions to 8000-meter peaks in the 1980s. 

Each 8000-meter peak appears in its own chapter as a novella in which McDonald interweaves the personalities and motivations of complex individuals who cast themselves full force into the harshest arena of winter mountaineering. The initial seven 8000-meter peaks climbed in winter were all by Polish expeditions and summiteers. Ironically, Everest was the first winter summit and in January of 2021, K2 was the last winter ascent, climbed by ten spirited Nepalis. 

The dominance of the Poles and their obsession with these audacious objectives are alone worth the read. None of these real-life characters are household names in the West, and many seasoned alpinists were not familiar with nor understood what they achieved until very recently.

“The constant hurricane force of the jet stream winds scour the higher elevations of the Himalaya, sounding like jumbo jetliners with their relentless, intimidating and ominous roar.  These gales destroy tents and hurl climbers off their feet like rag dolls in a wind tunnel.”

Winter 8000 also drives home the appreciation that the technical aspects of the climbing and the altitude are not the greatest obstacles to success: The greatest hindrances are cold, darkness, and most notably, the WIND!  The constant hurricane force of the jet stream winds scours the higher elevations of the Himalaya, sounding like jumbo jetliners with their relentless, intimidating, and ominous roar.  These gales destroy tents and hurl climbers off their feet like rag dolls in a wind tunnel.

The penultimate challenge is the waiting, sometimes for weeks, at base camp. Managing the passage of time is largely a mental game of chess.  When the dissipating clouds indicate stable high pressure, the ability to reinvigorate the mind and body is ultimately more inspiring than the primary goal to summit.  Perpetually recommitting yourself in the world’s harshest environment, the third Pole, as it is referred to by those who know its bounds, is the definitive test.

Italian climber Simone Moro celebrates on the summit of Makalu in February 2009 when he and Russian Denis Urubko made the first winter ascent of the mountain. Photo: Denis Urubko

McDonald has written two other remarkable books about Polish climbing.  Freedom Climbers, which chronicles the golden age of Polish mountaineering from 1971-1992, and The Art of Freedom, a biography of one of the world’s greatest alpinists, Voytek Kurtyka. Two of these books won the prestigious Boardman Tasker Award for mountaineering literature in 2011 and again in 2017. The “art of suffering” is referenced numerous times and is the title of McDonald’s introduction to Winter 8000. It is indeed an applicable and poignant descriptor of the expertise these men and women must master in order to achieve, persevere, and survive in this pursuit of climbing the world’s highest mountains during the most desolate and coldest time of year.

In the midst of our current world crisis and the pandemic, with all the disruption to daily life and the fear it invokes, this book gives us a focused perspective, from a climber’s point of view, of who chooses to suffer and overcome adversity in the face of peril and possible death. Simone Moro is quoted in the chapter on Broad Peak, and his words perhaps best convey the motivation of this select group of men and women who choose to climb in the world’s harshest environment:

“Nobody wants to die for their dreams. The only thing we truly want is to have a dream so strong it lets us feel young and alive. Majeic [Berbeka] taught me this well. That it’s never too late for dreams, and no dream is so big and so beckoning or so icy it’s impossible.” 

In January 2021 a team of ten Nepalese—nine Sherpas and a Ghurka—claimed the final winter ascent of an 8000 meter peak: K2. Photo: Nirmal Purja (Instagram)

INTERVIEW  WITH THE AUTHOR                            

Bernadette McDonald, author of Winter 8000, in 2017 when she presented at the Bilbao Mendi Film Festival. Photo: Rebecca Martin

Jack Tackle: K2, which was the last remaining 8000-meter peak to be climbed in winter, was finally climbed by a team of ten Sherpas this January. What do you think the future will be for 8000-meter winter ascents in the Himalayas? 

Bernadette McDonald: It was actually ten Nepalis, which included nine Sherpas and a Gurkha. I think the next chapter will actually be similar to the chapter that Italian Simone Moro opened a while back on Makalu. When he and Russian Denis Urubko did an oxygen-free, alpine style, winter ascent of Makalu, that signaled the future. That doesn't mean that all winter expeditions to the 8000ers are going to look like this, but I do think it's the future of really interesting winter climbing in the high mountains. And of course, more technical routes. Some people talk about solo. But I think if you analyze what really happens with solo winter climbs, there is usually a support structure, even if it's just one person. That goes for Krzysztof Wielicki’s winter ascent of Lhotse too: not exactly 'solo', just 'alone'.

“Thanks to Andrzej Zawada, who was an intelligent, well read, very aware, charismatic and ambitious climber—who was also a leader—Polish climbers created their own chapter in the history of Himalayan climbing. That chapter was winter.”

Andrzej Zawada was the charismatic leader of the Polish climbers dubbed “Ice Warriors,” who were first to pursue winter ascents of 8000 meter peaks. Here Zawada leads the Lhotse winter expedition in 1974. Photo: Bogdan Jankowski

JT:  The communist era in Eastern Europe clearly fostered and supported Himalayan expeditions in countries like Poland. In your opinion, if the Soviet Bloc had not been in place in the '60s, '70s, and '80s, how much of the Polish mountaineering emphasis on climbing 8000-meter peaks in winter would have taken place?

BM: I think it would have been entirely different. If Poland had been a free country after the war, and if Polish climbers had been free to travel, they most certainly would have been part of the history of the first ascents of the 8000ers. Polish climbers were very accomplished, and there were lots of them. But of course, they couldn't travel.  Thanks to Andrzej Zawada, who was intelligent, well read, very aware, charismatic, and ambitious climber—who was also a leader—Polish climbers created their own chapter in the history of Himalayan climbing. That chapter was winter. It was a strategic move on Zawada's part, and Polish climbers were just so keen and so comfortable with winter climbing, that they jumped at the chance to go. The rest, as they say, is history.

JT: In Winter 8000 you touch on the 16-year gap between winter ascents of Lhotse in 1988 and Shishapangma in 2005. Can you expand on why you think it took so long for another winter ascent of an 8000-meter peak after 1988?

BM:  I think a huge part of the gap [between winter climbs] has to do with the mortality rate of Polish Himalayan climbers. If you review the history of Himalayan climbing during that time, a lot of the top Polish climbers died in the mountains. Remember—they were the leaders in this game, and when there weren't enough of them left to do the job or mobilize younger Polish climbers to do the job, the job didn't get done. The other reason has to do with the changing economic situation in Poland. All of a sudden people—including climbers—could get real jobs with real salaries, and with real career paths. They were less inclined to spend their entire winters at the base of Manaslu or Makalu. 

JT: Do you agree with Italian climber Simone Moro's opinion and criteria that a true winter ascent only counts when the expedition takes place from Dec 21st to March 21st?  If so, how do you define in modern terms, the phenomenal effort by Wielicki solo-summiting Lhotse on Dec 31st, 1988 but with the expedition reaching base camp initially in November?

BM: I think in a general sense he is right. But I think he gets a bit obsessive about 'arriving' at the mountain no earlier than December 21st. He has at times acclimatized on another Himalayan peak so that when he arrives in base camp, he's ready to go. I don't think that is more noble than arriving in base camp before December 21st. It's absolutely true that Krzysztof arrived at Lhotse base camp before December 21st, as a number of the K2 climbers did this year as well. I think it's fair to say that the actual climbing on the peak of choice should start after December 21st. I think it's also fair to say that historical perspective should be part of the equation. And that isn't just pertaining to the dates of the start and endpoints of the climbs. I think you have to judge the earlier climbs with a different lens than modern climbs. So much has changed: weather forecasts, helicopter rescues, equipment, finances, climbing skills. It all adds up.

JT: Simone Moro has climbed four 8000-meter summits in winter and now K2 has been climbed. I just read the epic account of his crevasse fall on Gasherbrum I with Tamara Lunger!  Do you think his future plans will involve winter Himalayan climbing? 

BM:  He's on Manaslu at the moment with Basque climber Alex Txikon. Manaslu was climbed long ago by the Poles, without supplemental oxygen. I'm not sure exactly why Simone chose Manaslu this year, but he has tried it twice before, and I think he probably wanted to be anywhere but K2 this winter. As for the future, it wouldn't surprise me to see him on K2 or Everest, going for an oxygen-free ascent. 

JT: This winter there were several guided trips on K2 among those attempting to make the first winter ascent of the mountain. How has the presence of commercial trips changed the goals and style of winter Himalayan 8000-meter peak ascents? 

BM: This year was not normal. I think that now that the last 8000er has been climbed in winter, the attraction to paying clients will fade. It's not an appropriate commercial sport, in my opinion. I don't think these clients will change the goals and style of winter climbing in the high mountains that much because I just don't think the market will be there for it in the future. I suspect these clients will go back to a gentler season.

French alpinist Élisabeth Revol on her winter attempt of Nanga Parbat in 2013-14 with Italian climber Daniele Nardi. Photo: ÉlIsabeth Revol Archive

JT:  Who do you see as the vanguard of lightweight alpine-style or solo ascents of 8000-meter peaks in the winter in the future?

BM: I think solo is unlikely, as I noted. Alone—maybe. But solo—unlikely. As for the lightweight style, I would point towards Simone Moro, Alex Txikon, Denis Urubko, and Adam Bielecki. There are others, but these four are solid. On the female side, I would look to Elisabeth Revol and Tamara Lunger. 

 JT: You knew many of the climbers whom you write about in the book. Some of them are still alive, but many lost their lives in their pursuits as “Ice Warriors,” who were willing to engage in the art of suffering. Was this the most difficult part for you in writing this book?

BM: Without question, it was Maciej Berbeka. You're right—I did know or do know, a lot of them. But I knew Maciej, his family, his friends, and his partners on the climb. I saw what his death did to them. They were all destroyed, to a certain extent. And he was such a lovely man.

JT: What is the one question you haven’t been asked in interviews around the launch of Winter 8000 that you feel is an important topic?

Icy alpenglow illuminates the daunting features of Nanga Parbat. Referred to by climbers as the “killer mountain,” the peak demanded 31 attempts before a winter ascent was achieved in 2016 by the international team of Simone Moro, Muhammad Ali Sadpara, and Alex Txikon. Photo: Tommy Heinrich

BM: The question that has only been asked of me once, and which I have a heck of a time answering,  is whether I think what climbers have been doing in their winter pursuits of the 8000ers is worth it. Obviously, they think it's worth it or they wouldn't do it. I am really puzzled by the question and am all over the map with my thoughts on the answer. For some—many, actually—I think it is worth it. An admirable objective that is full of challenge, requiring tactics, skills, perseverance, focus, and the ability to suffer. For some, it clearly isn't worth it, whether it's frostbite or injury, or death. And in those cases, in particular, I find myself trying to second guess their decision-making process from start to finish: Was it a feasible goal? Were they adequately prepared? Was it the right team? Should they have turned back? Were there clear indicators that the weather patterns weren't favorable, that the team wasn't functioning well together, and on and on? And most importantly, were they thinking clearly about the collateral damage they could cause? Watching the families and close friends and climbing partners of those who died trying to climb an 8000er in winter try and cope with their grief does make me wonder if it's worth it. So, you can see, I don't really have the answer. 

JT: The amount of time and effort to research, interview, fact check, etc., [for the book] is staggering—as I noted when reading your bibliography. You are a great chronicler of mountaineering history and Winter 8000 represents years of hard work and toil. What was the most rewarding aspect for you in writing this book?

BM: Thank you. Maybe that I finished it? I'm only partly joking since the research on this topic was absolutely daunting. The true answer is that the most rewarding aspect is probably the same as with all my books: Getting inside the characters as much as I can. The climbs are amazing, the history is impressive, but what interests me the most is always the characters. How could they not be? I really do feel lucky to do this work.

Winter 8000 reviewer Jack Tackle on the SE Ridge route of Chilling ll in Zanskar, India where temperatures in fall 2016 at 20,000ft reached -20 fahrenheit at night. Photo: Renny Jackson

Jack Tackle is an alpinist, climbing guide and author who is a veteran of 45 expeditions globally. He has completed first ascents in Pakistan, Canada, and on some of the most challenging routes on peaks in Alaska. He lives with his wife, Pat, in Bozeman, Montana, and Tucson, Arizona—and also in their yurt in Castle Valley, Utah. 

Bernadette McDonald was longtime Vice President of Mountain Culture at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity and is an award-winning author and editor of numerous books on climbing and the mountain realm. She lives in Banff, Alberta, and Penticton, British Columbia, with her husband, Alan. 

You can follow Bernadette on Facebook and on her website, and you can order her books on Amazon.

Photographer Tommy Heinrich is based in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Learn more about Tommy and his work on his website, and you can follow him on Instagram.

BOOK | The Adventurer's Son: Love, Loss and Science in the Wild

Inquisitive toddler Cody Roman Dial studies a starfish while tide-pooling with his father, Roman, on the California coast. The family traveled with Roman to points across the globe for his scientific field reseasrch. Photo: Dial Family Collection

Interview by Faith Model 

I consumed Roman Dial’s new book, The Adventurer’s Son, in a weekend. Once I picked it up, I left it only to eat, sleep, and redirect my children. As a parent, it was impossible not to feel devastated and spellbound by Dial’s account of his search for his son, Cody Roman, who disappeared in the Corcovado rainforest in Costa Rica in 2014. 

It’s hard to imagine anything more terrifying than the disappearance of a child, but the torment of following dead ends and grappling with conflicting accounts in Dial’s frantic search for his son is the stuff of nightmares. Allegations that Cody Roman was involved with a local drug dealer turned the family’s search into a house of mirrors that questioned the very character of their beloved son with whom they shared a close bond. Through it all, we follow Dial as he wrestles with the complicated and weighty matters of being human—of love, suffering, loss, and healing. It’s the best kind of book, one that creeps into your thoughts in the wee hours of the morning and urges you to examine your own journey. 

Threaded through this book, I also found a celebration of wild places, an enthusiasm for physical challenges in the wild, and a regard for scientific inquiry. Ultimately, what compels Roman Dial to explore is a drive to study and protect some of the last wilderness areas on the planet. Through masterful storytelling, Dial invites the reader into his world where it is easy to appreciate why he is such a revered scientist, adventurer and educator.

I spoke to Dial earlier this summer as he was preparing to head out with students into the Brooks Range of Alaska to study the greening of the Arctic. He is the kind of thoughtful conversationalist who inspires interest and ideas, but also makes you feel heard. I was reluctant to hang up the phone.

—Faith Model

Faith Model: Your accomplishments are many: You are a renowned adventurer—packrafting, mountaineering, biking, skiing, and endurance racing. You are also an accomplished professor of biology and mathematics at Alaska Pacific University. It sounds like you’ve made a living doing what you love. Is there a secret to figuring out how to do that?

Roman Dial: It’s not really a secret—it’s simply a willingness to give up one thing to pursue another—that and having a supportive family and network of friends. Without emotional support and human connection, it’s difficult to make dreams happen. I’ve been lucky, too, of course, yet have made a point to seek out the people willing to mentor me or to share in realizing wild ideas.

Roman Dial pack rafts the Nenana River with Paul Adkins just behind, on a summer traverse of the Alaska Range in 1996. The team’s journey was featured in National Geographic magazine the following year. Dial is renowned for his many decades of scientific exploration in Alaska’s most remote and challenging terrain, largely farthest north in the Brooks Range. Photo: Bill Hatcher

FM: Where does your motivation for adventure come from? Was there one particular event or time in your life that hooked you?

RD: It traces back to living in the city as a little kid, when I’d visit my grandmother’s farm with animals and nature nearby. My uncles took me into the woods and fields, hunting, fishing, even collecting wild honey from a hollow oak. My mom, who’d left the farm to move to Seattle, often took her younger brothers to Seattle. I think entertaining me was a way of repaying her. But surely the most momentous time was when I was nine years old and I spent the summer in Alaska with those same uncles. After that I was hooked on the outdoors. First, simply nature—animals and plants—was the outdoor appeal. But once in high school and college it became challenge, adventure, and excitement that pulled me outside.

FM: Are there any burning questions or issues that drive your projects or research?

RD: Right now, how the living landscapes of wild Alaska are changing under rapid climate change is fascinating. As America’s most pristine natural environment, with a remarkably stable economy and access to modern technology, Alaska is a fabulous place to study the interaction between a warming environment and organisms’ response to that warming. For example, there are forests moving uphill and hopping over Arctic mountain ranges during my lifetime. In just the last few decades, bushes and shrubs have colonized tundra and wetlands where they’ve been otherwise absent since before the last ice age. And the opportunity to study these phenomena with young people in wild places that I have loved and explored for over forty years is a wonderful way to mix exploration and discovery with science and teaching.

Humans have an innate drive to explore and move over the Earth. Not all of us, but maybe those of us ‘that don’t fit in…who roam the world at will,’ to paraphrase the 19th century poet, Robert Service. 

FM: You helped devise a method for traversing forest canopies with an arborist friend in Puerto Rico, tell me more about that.

RD: By the early 1990s, my friends in Alaska and I had discovered that crossing big, wild landscapes could be very satisfying. Humans have an innate drive to explore and move over the Earth. Not all of us, but maybe those of us “that don’t fit in…who roam the world at will,” to paraphrase the 19th century poet Robert Service. For some of us—scaling mountains, running rivers, crossing ice fields—is reward enough for something primal. In graduate school, I thought to apply my mountaineering skills to a research project on tropical rainforest ecology by climbing and then moving around in trees. I’d learned from an arborist friend some rope tricks and techniques and during my research in Puerto Rico, and envisioned the idea of moving across a whole forest, camping out and not coming down for an extended period of time. Afterward I learned that there was a whole tree climbing scene, but apart from Cosimo, the protagonist in Italo Calvino’s novel The Baron in the Trees, nobody had tried to cross a forest from tree-top to tree-top. For a few years, myself and some big-tree climbers from northern California had a go at what we called “canopy trekking.” We invented special techniques and hardware, and even published an illustrated article titled, “Methods for horizontal movement through forest canopies” in a scientific journal. In many ways, the canopy treks we did through Borneo’s dipterocarp, Australia eucalypt, and California’s redwood and sequoia forests were among the most amazing adventures I ever had: mostly because we realized a vision of landscape movement that had neither been accomplished nor attempted. It was a satisfying form of novel exploration and discovery in the 21st century.

FM: You’ve inspired countless students, young explorers and scientists, but I wonder who inspired you? Who were your heroes growing up?

RD: Of course it began with my uncles Zinn and Brian in Alaska. Paul A. Zahl and other nature writers in National Geographic magazine fueled my pre-adolescence imagination. By the time I was in high school my heroes were the mountaineers Galen Rowell, David Roberts, and Yvon Chouinard. Then, once I moved to Alaska for college, my heroes became the local climbers in Fairbanks who made first ascents and grand traverses in the Alaska and Brooks Ranges.

It’s about the fact that being in front doesn’t make you the leader, that leading is about being sure that those you lead are well-taken care of, not left to keep up or fend for themselves.

FM: You’ve taught undergraduate and graduate students for 30 years. What are the lessons you’ve learned on your own adventures that you try to pass on to your students?

RD: That’s a great question. Right now, I’ve been leading a half dozen students in a project in the local Chugach Mountains where we hike off-trail through the forests, shrublands, and tundra  in a sort of “ground-truth trekking,” where we check out the vegetation that NASA satellites have identified as possibly changing over the last twenty years. To those students who have an interest and an aptitude for how to route-find across landscapes, I’ve been teaching the rules-of-thumb for finding and following wild animal trails and choosing what kind of vegetation is good for travel and what’s not. I try to warn and educate them about hazards through story-telling, rather than lecture. Stories that recount mishaps and near-misses from my own travels and those of my friends and companions work better than saying, “do-this.” When I do lecture, it’s about sharing and not being selfish. It’s about taking no more than you need, about not being greedy. It’s about the fact that being in front doesn’t make you the leader, that leading is about being sure that those you lead are well-taken care of, not left to keep up or fend for themselves. It’s not about what you carry in your pack, but what you leave behind that makes you skilled in wilderness travel.

FM: What do you enjoy most about teaching and mentoring students? 

RD: Their enthusiasm to learn and experience life, and to encourage that enthusiasm and to share that experience. The fact that it’s a very ancient human activity for us old, slow, gray-hairs to pass on knowledge and experience about the natural world to the young, fast and fresh. An appreciative reception can be reward enough to anyone passing on knowledge.

FM: You have accomplished a great deal in your life, what would consider your greatest achievement?

RD: Raising two kids with a woman who made me a better person.

FM: You and your wife, Peggy, included your two children—Cody Roman and Jazz—on adventures from an early age. You not only explored your home state of Alaska with them, but you brought them on extended trips to Latin America, Borneo, and Australia. Your son ultimately became one of your most cherished adventure partners. How valuable were these early experiences for your kids? And for you as parents?

Dial’s wife, Peggy, with Cody Roman and daughter Jazz on one of their frequent family trips into the Alaska wilderness—this time on the Chilkoot Trail in 1992.

RD: I think those early experiences profoundly bonded us as a family. As parents, we got to know our kids in ways we might not if we didn’t face the novel and unknown together. They also gave the kids a sense of confidence and courage to deal with the new and unfamiliar. My son became a wonderful storyteller. And while he was self-confident, he was neither arrogant nor boastful. Travel opens your mind and makes you more accepting of other people and their cultures. While our duty as parents includes applying our experience to raise them, it was certainly a delight to share in completely new experiences that made us more equal, too.

FM: Your book, The Adventurer’s Son, was published earlier this year to critical acclaim. The book is a moving, yet harrowing account of your two-year search for your son who disappeared in the Corcovado rainforest in Costa Rica in July of 2014. How did the experience of losing your son change the way you think about adventure? 

His disappearance, and the grief I felt as I searched, forced me to confront the fact that those who love us most are hurt the most when we die. 

RD: That’s a difficult question to answer as Cody Roman disappeared when I was in my mid-50s, a time when reflexes slow, testosterone diminishes, and the need for a healthy adrenaline fix wanes in most men that age. But his disappearance, and the grief I felt as I searched, forced me to confront the fact that those who love us most are hurt the most when we die. As an artist friend told me, “Love and grief go hand in hand.” The simple fact that I could die doing something for “fun,” as recreation, suddenly seemed very selfish. Selfish in that my pursuit of “fun” might well end my life, hurting those I love most with unimaginable pain for the rest of their lives, while I’d feel nothing once I died. That has changed the way I think about what I do.

FM:  In what ways did writing the book help you work through your grief of losing your son?

RD: The first third of the book, Part I, is 13 chapters long and perhaps a bit self-indulgent in its reminiscences. It’s meant to tell the story of how I came to live in Alaska, meet Peggy, decide to have a family, and raise our son. In the first chapter I fall in love with Alaska. By the second chapter, I’ve met my future wife. In the third chapter we fall in love. In the fourth chapter, a near-death experience reveals to me the importance of having a family. Cody Roman is born in the fifth chapter, and from there forward I write about our relationship. That part of the book offered me a chance to revisit our life together. It was nostalgic, and I enjoyed reading it aloud to Peggy as I worked through it. We relived the highlights of raising our family.

For the six chapters of Part II, I took his emails, notebooks, and maps describing his six months travelling in Mexico and Central America and passed his words through my thoughts and heart to write the story of his travels. It was a fantastic, satisfying way to internalize and understand what he’d done, seen, and felt. It left me feeling very proud of him.

Psychologists believe that losing an adult child in their twenties may be the most traumatic event that can occur in a parent’s life. Writing this book was a way to process that tragedy.  

Part I is meant to be slow, perhaps idyllic. Part II is meant to show that his upbringing had brought him to this grand Latin American adventure of his own, that he’d grown up and become his own man, competent and confident. Part III is the heart of the book. In Part III he goes missing and I go looking. Writing this [book] really did help me to process not just what happened, but what I thought and felt. Psychologists believe that losing an adult child in their twenties may be the most traumatic event that can occur in a parent’s life. Writing this book was a way to process that tragedy. Of course, I wept as I revisited events, but tears are the heart’s way of passing grief.

Writing this book also helped me deal with my own sense of guilt. The way we raised our kids was certainly the reason why he was traveling through Central America, but it was not the reason for his death.

Instead, the way we raised him was a source of joy that we shared during his life. That’s what writing the book did for me: reaffirmed that.

FM: Shifting to your environmental work, you have mentioned how landscapes have shifted due to rapid climate change, but I’m also curious about changing human behavior and how it’s impacted these landscapes. In your travels and research over the years, how do you make sense of what humans have done to the planet?

RD: Having just returned from the largest protected mountain wilderness in the US, this is a very pertinent question. For several consecutive years now I have spent three to six weeks each summer in the Brooks Range witnessing the incredibly rapid climate-driven transformations occurring there and wrought by human action. 

When I was a kid in suburban northern Virginia, I spent much of my free time catching turtles, salamanders, and snakes and looking for lady slipper orchids in a relatively large fragment of natural landscape called the Chiles Tract. In high school I tried to generate interest in protecting the Chiles Tract, which was sold to developers the year I left for college. Coming home I found that my beloved “woods," “creek," and “swamp” had been cut-up, drained, and replaced with suburban housing. It was crushing to see. But having moved to Alaska, I felt that I was safe from witnessing further destruction of landscapes that have formed me as a person. 

But climate change, air travel, and the escape of our plastic waste, prove that even the most distant beaches, primal rainforest, and desolate tundra are touched by humans. It’s a bit ironic to go to the most remote place in the United States, over 100 miles in every direction from roads and human habitation, to find that trees and other plants and even the very ground and waters are changing in ways they haven’t for 100,000 years and changing due to human activity on the other side of the Earth.

I believe these large protected wilderness areas will be the most resilient to change and so it is important that we develop young people’s interest in protecting big, wild landscapes all over the world.

Having visited the Brooks Range regularly over the last 40 years, I’ve witnessed the disappearance of large-bodied birds, mountain sheep, and caribou; the reduction in abundance of insects and other arthropods; the slumping of hillsides; the draining of lakes and wetland iron-oxides as permafrost melts; the drying of ponds and wetlands; the expansion of seedling spruce onto mountain tops and tussock bogs; the doubling in height of tall shrubs blocking caribou migrations; the movement of boreal species like chickadees, wasps, spruce trees, and beavers into Arctic tundra.  

While these changes are alarming, I believe these large protected wilderness areas that will be the most resilient to change and so it is important that we develop young people’s interest in protecting big, wild landscapes all over the world.

Roman Dial packrafting the John River in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska this summer with several of his students. Photo: Maddy Zietlow

FM: I’m also wondering about the influence your students have had on you? What have you learned from them?

RD: Obviously, I’ve learned a lot about using my phone! Seriously—we actually call our science in the Brooks Range “iPhone ecology” because we rely on our phones as small computers that perform the duties of multiple devices. While there is no cell coverage in Gates of the Arctic National Park or the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, we connect our phones to satellite transmitter/receivers to text for communication, use mapping apps and our phones’ GPS to navigate, use electronic data sheets to record our observations, and, of course, take photos and store field guides and scientific papers to read while we travel. I like to joke that the smart phone is basically the 21st century version of a Swiss army knife.

I have also learned to appreciate that everyone has unique talents and skills that make the team so much more than just a group of individuals. For example, Julia Ditto is a young artist and wonderful photographer who’s joined me on month-long Brooks Range traverses two years in a row. Toshio Matsuoka is a musician and teenage jester whose first backpack trip more than a weekend long was a month in the Brooks Range. He carried a ukulele and played it while we packrafted down wild rivers. Both students, besides being creative and fun-loving, are keen, curious observers too. Their sense of humor and eternal optimism teach me to lighten up and have some faith that the future is in good hands with people like them.

The shift from teaching and showing them, to learning and exploring together—that’s the reward of education for me. 

Two others on the trip, Maddy Zietlow and Russell Wong, will use the data we have collected as the basis of their senior projects. They will, I expect, discover formerly unknown relationships between the vegetation they recorded on their iPhones during our 375-mile journey this summer and the 20 years of NASA satellite data collected from 700 miles above the Earth. During my three-decade career at Alaska Pacific University, that shared sense of scientific discovery with students has kept me sharp and happy with my job. The shift from teaching and showing them, to learning and exploring together—that’s the reward of education for me. 

Connect with Roman Dial on Instagram and Facebook. You can order his book, The Adventurer’s Son, on Amazon. 

Interested in booking Roman Dial to present for an event? Please contact rmartin@explorationconnections.com.

Faith Model, a former humanitarian aid worker, lived and worked in Kenya and Sudan for 12 years. She is now a writer based in Cody, Wyoming, and co-chairs the Bobby Model Charitable Fund.  

Catherine the Great: Celebrated French Climber Destivelle First Woman to Receive Piolet d’Or Lifetime Achievement Award

Ropeless and confident, Catherine Destivelle chalks up in dramatic stem position on the second half of her 867-foot ascent of El Matador (5.11d), on Devil’s Tower in Wyoming. The breathtaking feat, when she untied her rope mid-climb after it jammed in her belay protection device, served as the climax of the 1992 French film, Ballade à Devil’s Tower. Accomplishments like this, combined with her pioneering climbs in the Alps and Himalaya, garnered her the Piolet D’Or Lifetime Achievement Award.

By Bernadette McDonald

Photographs by Beth Wald

Catherine Destivelle has always been ahead of the pack. And now she has done it again, becoming the first woman to receive the Piolet d’Or Lifetime Achievement Award, for her accomplishments and contributions to the world of alpinism. Piolet d’Or is perhaps the most prized recognition internationally for achievements in climbing.

Born in Algeria on July 24, 1960, Catherine first discovered climbing at Fontainebleau at the age of 12 after her family’s move to Paris. She was soon tackling big alpine routes in the Alps, mentored by older climbers who recognized her skill and determination. 

Her rock-climbing abilities exploded at about the same time that sport climbing was rapidly gaining popularity, and she participated in competitions at the highest level. Her wins at the competitions Sportroccia in Italy in 1985 and at Jeff Lowe’s 1988 event in Snowbird, Utah; that she became the first woman to redpoint 8a (5.13b); and her compelling beauty and her gregarious personality; soon made her a rock-climbing star. One of the first rock-climbing films, the sumptuously produced E Pericoloso Sporgersi (1985), clearly shows her cat-like dexterity on the immaculate limestone of the Verdon Gorge

“At first I was embarrassed—I looked at the list of other Lifetime Piolet winners and I felt they had done so much more than me.”

Dazzling the climbing world with her exceptional skill and natural dexterity, Catherine placed first in the Snowbird Sport Climbing Competition in 1988, the first-ever event of its kind in the USA. She returned in 1989 (photographed here), winning the third place title.

Despite her success and fame as a rock climber, Catherine’s heart is in the mountains, and in 1990, she made an impressive solo ascent of the Bonatti Pillar on the Petit Dru. With this climb, her reputation as an alpinist was assured. She next opened a new route on the west face of the Petit Dru over an 11-day period and then, in an even more ambitious undertaking, completed a solo winter trilogy in the Swiss Alps: the north face of the Eiger in 1992, the Walker Spur on the north face of the Grandes Jorasses in 1993, and the Bonatti route on the north face of the Matterhorn in 1994. Many of her alpine routes were documented on film, enhancing her reputation even more. Although this was the first time that a woman had climbed at such a high level in the Alps, Catherine wasn’t content with the ‘first female’ role, insisting that her climbs be measured against all alpinists, regardless of gender.

Catherine joined forces with Jeff Lowe to enter the high-altitude arena when they made the second free ascent of the Slovenian Route on Pakistan’s Trango Tower--a granite spire in the Karakoram Himalaya. And together with Érik Decamp, she climbed the southwest face of Shishapangma--one of the world’s 14 8000-meter peaks--as well as the Losar Icefall near Namche Bazaar in Nepal. 

Catherine leads a 14-pitch climb of the spectacular 700-meter frozen waterfall, “Losar” (VI W15), near Namche Bazaar in Nepal. Her then partner, Erik Decamp, belays. Noted Climbing magazine of her accomplishments: “Catherine Destivelle crushed the stereotypes that top level sport climbing and daring alpinism were reserved for men.”

She subsequently broadened her focus, married, had a child--Victor--and developed a highly successful career as a lecturer and writer. In 2011, Catherine embarked on her next adventure when she launched Les Éditions du Mont Blanc, a publishing company dedicated to mountaineering literature.

I have had the pleasure of knowing Catherine for many years, inviting her to speak at the Banff Mountain Film Festival several times and was, like the audiences who saw her speak, completely impressed with her engaging abilities as a presenter.  I also enjoyed her warm hospitality at her vacation home in the south of France, where she called every night to ensure that my husband and I had found the ‘right’ bakery, that we were climbing the routes that she was sure we would enjoy, that we didn’t miss out on a certain gourmet restaurant, and that we connected with her local climbing friends to show us around. I also had the enjoyable experience of climbing with her in Slovenia and Canada, and have always appreciated her slightly mischievous sense of humor.

Catherine is accomplished in so many ways, and has never lost her direct approach to life. She continues to discover new things, working hard at her projects, and maintaining world class standards in all she does. She truly is an inspiration to the next generation.

Her response to this coveted international recognition was reflective of her gracious and gregarious character: “At first I was embarrassed—I looked at the list of other Lifetime Piolet winners and I felt they had done so much more than me. But when it became public, I was surprised that everyone was so happy for me. Men and women both! So now I’m happy because everyone is happy!”

Learn more about Catherine Destivelle at http://catherinedestivelle.com/home/. You can follow Catherine on Instagram and check out the books she publishes at Les Éditions du Mont Blanc.

Bernadette McDonald is an award-winning author and was longtime Vice President of the Banff Centre for Mountain Culture. Connect with Bernadette on Facebook and via her website.  Her latest book, Winter 8000, goes on sale in North America in September. You can purchase the book chronicling winter ascents of the 8000-meter peaks here.

Photographer Beth Wald has traveled the world documenting stories of the human connection with land and nature. Wald has received multiple awards for her work, which has been featured in publications including National Geographic, Outside, and Smithsonian, as well as for Patagonia, The North Face, and Nikon. Follow Beth on Instagram and visit her website to learn more.

A presenter at the 2016 Banff Mountain Film and Book Festival, Catherine Destivelle connects with (from left) Ann Krcik, Bernadette McDonald and Rebecca Martin (right).

Renowned Alpinist CONRAD ANKER Presents for The Nature Conservancy in California

Conrad Anker presents on climbing and climate change at the Menlo Circus Club for The Nature Conservancy in California’s 2020 kick off event in February.

by Rebecca Martin

Photographs courtesy The Nature Conservancy in California

Celebrated alpinist and Exploration Connections speaker Conrad Anker presented on climbing and climate change to a sold-out audience at the Menlo Circus Club in February for The Nature Conservancy in California’s 2020 kick off event. With more than 100 people in attendance at the presentation and dinner in Atherton—just south of San Francisco—Anker recounted his experiences growing up in northern California with parents who fostered his deep connection to wild places through frequent hiking and camping trips. He credited these early experiences for his lifetime passion for exploring, as well as his ongoing engagement in conservation. The evening prior to the event, Anker emphasized the importance of TNC’s global efforts, posting on Facebook, “Did you know that @nature_org [The Nature Conservancy], founded in the U.S. in 1953, is the biggest conservation organization in the world,” then touching on TNC’s priorities of tackling climate change, protecting land and water, and building healthy cities, among several other key goals.

Anker converses with The Nature Conservancy California’s Executive Director, Mike Sweeney, who opened the evening with remarks on the organization’s ongoing conservation efforts in California..

Anker’s early accomplishments in the climbing realm soon led to him to join The North Face athlete team—a relationship he has enjoyed for more than 30 years. In addition, he served as longtime athlete team captain for The North Face until 2019.

Gracious and humble in nature, Anker is perhaps best known for discovering the remains of the legendary British climber George Leigh Mallory on Mt. Everest in 2000. Mallory and his climbing partner, Sandy Irvine, vanished on the upper reaches of the iconic mountain in 1924, leaving the mountaineering world to long wonder whether the duo could have possibly reached the summit, subsequently perishing on their descent.

Anker was also one of the central characters in the acclaimed 2015 feature documentary Meru, directed by recent Academy Award winners Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi. He has appeared in numerous films about climbing and exploration, and has authored several books.

“Conrad’s presence at our event made for an evening that was deeply engaging, informative and inspiring for everyone attending.”

Conrad Anker with TNC California’s Director of Individual Giving, Lindsay Hower.

The audience, which included a number of children and teens and others who enthusiastically follow Anker’s pursuits and posts on social media, listened intently to his compelling accounts of climbs in California, Alaska, and the Himalaya. But then Anker’s talk took a more serious turn to focus on climate change. A longtime conservation advocate who holds a M.S. from Montana State University in climate studies, Anker spoke to climate-based changes underway in the higher climes—including the glacial recession he has helped document in the Himalaya—and also to the catastrophic fires that have plagued the state of California in recent years, a casualty of a warming planet.

Lindsay Hower, Director of Individual Giving for TNC’s Northern California region, commented on the occasion, “The Nature Conservancy in California could not have

Anker’s wife, artist Jenni Lowe-Anker, joined for the evening.

been more pleased to commence 2020 with this evening featuring Conrad Anker, who is admired for both his extraordinary achievements in exploration and alpinism, as well as his unwavering commitment to conservation of wild places. Conrad’s presence at our event made for an evening that was deeply engaging, informative and inspiring for everyone attending.”

Follow Conrad Anker on Instagram and Twitter.

You can learn more about the work of The Nature Conservancy in California here.