In just a day or two, the teamwork begins. We'll get together in the rain-soaked foothills of the Cascades to catch-up, make lists, argue strategies, buy food, collect gear and pack it all on a slow plane to China. For nearly three months, we're going to work so closely together that it would probably be illegal in some states. But for now... it is still a personal gig and the loner thing. Leaving home and having to explain it is still done solo. For me, it was about driving out of Taos, New Mexico.

I loaded up the car and cruised through the Southwestern deserts and high mesas that can haunt one occasionally in their similarities to the Tibetan Plateau... way premature when one's head is still so full of US of A people and places.

I've got a great job on the Taos Ski Patrol, and I've got great friends there. The March sunshine at 12,000 feet in the Rockies is bad for your skin but awesome for your brain; the Mexican food is better than almost any oatmeal packet I'll see for these next months; the tequila is... well, you get the point. Why the heck wouldn't that be good enough for the Spring of '99?

					"When I pass 28,500ft on the way to the Second Step on the North Ridge, I won't be thinking of Taos, or the good life, or the people I know and love..."

Why Everest? Truth is... I'm not asking those questions now. I'm not forming equations that have "the good life" on one side and Oxygen Deprivation/ Stress/ Danger/ Malnutrition/and the great unknown... on the other. That'd be dumb to do now. Suffice to say that I do know what the good life is and how to live it. And then there is this Everest expedition we're going on. You make your choices... but that doesn't mean you can always explain them. I made my choices based on stuff that doesn't spill out real easy.

When you are leaving for the Big E though, and people know it, they ask the "why" question a fair bit. So it is helpful to have some easy answers at the tip of the tongue. I found that describing our exploration goals, and our Mallory and Irvine interests distracted people nicely from the big "why." And when appropriate, I can look as confused, tortured and driven by ghosts as the next guy if it will get me a free beer/shirt/what-have-you. The good friends and relatives don't ask the why stuff a whole lot anymore. They figure they haven't gotten honest answers for any of the other trips, why would I get soft on that tricky stuff now?

Most of my best friends are risk takers anyway and don't have a problem with the idea that I might want to go just 'cause it is fun. But we talk over details and dates and logistics, and I give a lot of slide shows in the final weeks at home. When I was newer to all this expedition climbing, I'd try to show my friends slides that would prove I was crazed. Now I try to convince them that I'm sane as all-get-out and looking forward to eventual old age and such. Which is true as can be. An old age where this '99 Everest North Side venture stands out as having been the perfect expedition. A strong team of good friends on a good mountain looking for clues to tell the story of some good climbers who went before. Not like we aim to do 360 mute grab airs in the 28,000ft pow or anything. Even so, people get worried.

I tried to make the full rounds these last few weeks, seeing as many friends as I could. But not at all because I didn't figure I'd see them again, more because I only just returned from the last four month trip and I don't want to lose touch. Even so, some folks say goodbye just a little too seriously — perhaps having just finished Krakauer's book, they commit me to the death zone, giving me the shivers in a way Everest probably won't.

					"This is not denial. I know, and my partners know, the dangers we will face on Everest. But we are not going there for the dangers..."

Sometimes cameras are pointed my way and I worry that someone is out to get the pre-tragedy shot that will sell for at least 20 bucks on a slow-news day of the future. But my good friends, and my family too, know to keep it light. We don't say good-bye, we say "see ya" and we hug and handshake and smile our best wishes for each other. And that is the way it is... I worry just as much for my friends in the passage of three months in an uncertain world as they do for me in the clutches of the death zone. This is not denial. I know, and my partners know, the dangers we will face on Everest. But we are not going there for the dangers.

Ski Patrolling is not without danger itself, and in the past few weeks I didn't get my job safely done by clouding up my head with Everest. So, in truth, when folks asked, on chairlifts to double diamond chutes bounded by hard rocks and strong trees, as to whether I was psyched up for the Himalaya, I answered quite honestly, "No." But now I'm actually on the way to this Everest trip and yes, I'm switching gears with a vengeance... psyching up doesn't get much easier. When I pass 28,500ft on the way to the Second Step on the North Ridge, I won't be thinking of Taos, or the good life, or the people I know and love. That stuff is firmly in place before leaving, but it won't be conjured up when good footsteps and solid handholds and clever ropework are in order. Call it the focus zone if you want to label it... my mountain isn't about death.

We're going soon... "Biggie Size" that order please... where is your salad bar? Is there a payphone around here... gotta make a few more calls...

—Dave Hahn, Climber

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