DORJE’S DREAM OF CLIMBING EVEREST:
For fifteen years, the mountain had been silently trying to seduce him with its mysterious folds of rock and ice. And now his long, love affair with Everest was about to be consummated. With a deep breath, he arched his back to rid the tension and took his first steps toward his dream of reaching the summit. The icefall was a maze of enormous ice blocks resting on a ground riddled with innumerable crevasses. As the porters wound through a forest of séracs tilting in all directions, the blue-ice pinnacles loomed forebodingly in their cold silence. The Sherpas walked without speaking, not wanting to disturb the spirits inhabiting the towers. Suddenly, as if the mountain had decided to stretch, the ground moved slightly, and a narrow tongue peeled off one of the séracs plunging downward in a mass of shattering ice.

After crawling on an aluminum ladder spanning a deep crevasse on the first day. He had seen dead bodies brought down from the mountain, how rigid and pale they were. But never had he imagined himself that way until today when he peered into the depths. It could end so quickly and without warning: a sag in the ladder, a misplaced step, loose crampon, or a frayed rope. Listening to the crack of a sérac breaking free, he felt adrift on a river of ice that was moving, crumbling, and toppling all around. And it terrified him. Tomorrow he would start back through the icefall for three more carries from Base Camp. Having promised Beth to turn around if things looked bad, how could he determine that moment when things were constantly in flux? He listened to the groan of glaciers settling for the night and the occasional rattle of falling stone. The crack of ice and snow breaking loose sounded not far away followed by the roar of an avalanche tumbling down the mountain ready to engulf their camp. Shuddering, he pulled the bag over his head and pretended not to hear.

UPON FIRST SEEING BETH AT THE LUKLA LANDING STRIP:
Turning, Dorje saw a nerve-tingling vision --- long, honey-golden hair and eyes like wild blue poppies. Surely he was hallucinating, but could his mind really conjure up such an extraordinary goddess? While porters packed the duffels, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was like the sweet mist rising from leaves after a warm rain. When she noticed him watching her, the corner of her mouth turned up in a self-conscious smile and he felt himself soaring above the hills like a giant Himalayan griffon gliding endlessly.