APPROACH

May 17, 2010. Encouraging news. According to the weather forecasters, there will be a good weather window with no jet stream from May 22 to May 26. We want to beat the crowds up high, so we leave Everest base camp at 4:00 a.m. so that we are in position at the South Col to go for the summit when the window opens. We go through the Khumbu Icefall for the second-to-last time. I will not miss this thing. I hear a noise coming from above and look toward the sky. I see helicopters flying overhead… and I can make out human figures dangling from haul lines. Are the figures at the ends of the ropes moving or not? I can’t help but wonder if these are rescues or body recoveries. One of each, I am told. Either way, that is not a helicopter ride I want to take. It takes us twelve hours to get to Camp 2. We are not speedy, but we are solid.

I fall into my tent at Camp 2. I am tired. I miss my friends Squash, Wosh, and Ritta—the ones with the funny nicknames whom I have shared a tent with on previous expeditions. Cramming four of us in a tent is, of course, a bit crowded, but Ritta and I are small, so we always make it work. They are my favorite climbing partners, as we always laugh our heads off when we are together. I wish I were in the mood to laugh right now. I wish I had someone to encourage me, as I am feeling unsure about whether I can actually make it to the summit. Meg, where are you? Oh, here you are. I need you to hold my hand. I am sorry I wasn’t there to hold yours before you left. I am holding it now.…

We are scheduled to spend two nights at Camp 2 before moving up, in order to recover from the long climb from base camp. Decisions on when to move up are based not only on weather, but also on what other teams are doing. We want to avoid the crowds; waiting on the fixed lines for too long can be dangerous and can jeopardize a summit bid. What is up with this weather??? Blasting snow, high winds… We end up staying at Camp 2 longer than expected.

May 21. We leave at 3:30 a.m. for Camp 3. The Lhotse Face is steep and icy, and we are clipped in to the fixed lines for safety the entire time. I remember Peter Legate, who slipped on the Face and died when I was on my previous expedition in 2002. He was a Brit who worked for the BBC. I will not slip and die, as I am not British. This is good logic. Peter’s climbing partners ran to our camp for help after the accident—we were still down at Camp 2 getting ready to head up. But there was nothing anyone could do. His body succumbed to the trauma of the fall. He sleeps in a crevasse somewhere below the Lhotse Face. It takes me more than nine hours to climb that Face. I am slower than usual. What is wrong with me? Must be the extra weight I am carrying—none of which is physical. I arrive at Camp 3 and find Garrett standing outside his tent. He tells me I did a great job getting there. Liar. I did not perform well today. But I appreciate his encouragement. Always a smile and a pat on the back. It helps. We spend a night at Camp 3, and I have a much better night there than I did during the last rotation. Thanks to sucking oxygen all night. We sleep on oxygen and will continue to use it until we get back down from the summit. This is the norm for 98 percent of climbers on Everest. The scary thing is that once you start burning through your Os, the clock is ticking and your timing is no longer flexible. You have essentially started your summit bid because you have a limited amount of oxygen. I hear the ticking sound. It won’t stop. The tank I am using is much lighter this time—less than half the weight of the tank I used in 2002. This is a really good thing. Carrying less weight means I can move faster. At this elevation, saving weight really matters, and a few extra pounds can make or break you.

May 22. We make our way through the Yellow Band and across the Geneva Spur, and we land at Camp 4 at the South Col in about 6.5 hours. Today was a good day for me. I was much stronger and climbed at a faster clip than I did on my way to Camp 3. For the first time we can really get a good look at the summit pyramid. How the hell am I going to make it all the way up there??? Now we are above 26,000 feet—in a place called the death zone. The significance of the name is not lost on me. At 26,000 feet human life can no longer be sustained, so our bodies are slowly starting to die. Yikes. We tuck ourselves into our tents and suck on oxygen and drift off to sleep. Or perhaps it is just a state of semiconsciousness. Not sure. Doesn’t matter really. It feels peaceful.

May 23. Rest day for us, but many teams are moving up already. Anxious. We hear reports of long lines of people waiting at the Hillary Step. Apparently the delays are more than ninety minutes. People can get frostbite waiting around like that. I need to eat and hydrate all day so that I have the energy for the big push tomorrow, but it is hard to get food/liquids down once you are in the death zone, because your body is slowly starting to shut down and you have no appetite whatsoever. Best to eat foods that you really like and that are easy to digest. The Sherpas serve us some kind of spicy lentils over rice. Are they kidding with this food at Camp 4? Who can eat this stuff??? Not me. I can’t get it down. But I remember the story Michael Horst shared with us about the guy who didn’t eat the day before his summit attempt and threw his food out the back vestibule of the tent. He didn’t have enough energy to climb during the final push, and he didn’t make it to the summit. I knew I should not toss my food out the back vestibule of the tent. I’ll toss it out the front.

Weather reports are still good for tomorrow, so we plan to head out at 11:00 p.m. this evening. Midmorning, a radio call comes in to our Sirdar (the head Sherpa on an expedition), Lakpa Rita. A climber from the Altitude Junkies team is in trouble at the South Summit. Lakpa prepares to go help with the rescue. He grabs an extra tank of oxygen and some syringes of dexamethasone, which may save this climber’s life if he has cerebral edema from the extreme altitude. Before I can tell him to stay safe, he is gone—heading up the frozen slopes to assist a climber who is struggling to survive. Lakpa is one of the strongest climbers on the mountain. Everyone knows he has what it takes to save lives up high. He is a hero. He makes it back to the South Col in the late afternoon. I breathe a sigh of relief that he has come back safely. There is a reason he is our head Sherpa. He is superhuman.

We take it easy the rest of the afternoon, mentally preparing for what lies ahead. The hours pass, and the winds start picking up. And up. And up. Our tents are getting battered around a bit. Can’t really be that bad out there. Probably sounds worse than it is from the inside of the tent. But we should be okay, because we are right smack in the middle of the forecast “window of good weather.” So these winds are temporary, I’m sure. And at least it isn’t snowing.

10:00 p.m. An updated weather report comes in—increased high winds and up to a foot of snow are expected. WHAT THE???? Our weather guy sucks!!! Okay… I need to relax.… We probably won’t go this evening. There is no way we will climb in this weather. Most of the other teams who were ready to go for it are calling off their summit bids.

10:30 p.m. I hear a voice outside my tent. Chhewang Nima Sherpa is asking if I am ready to go. You are kidding, right??? Winds are howling and it is snowing and visibility is sh*t. But we are already burning up our oxygen supply, so we need to make a move, and we have already been up in the death zone for more than twenty-four hours, which means our bodies and our brain cells are deteriorating. The Sherpas call for us again. We are going for the summit. I lucked out, because I get to climb alongside Chhewang, who is going for his nineteenth summit—one less than the record held by Apa Sherpa. I am honored to be climbing with such a famous and accomplished guy. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and over the howling wind he asks me if I am ready to climb. Seriously? In these conditions??? No, I am not ready! I look him in the eye and tell him, “Yes.”

We are all set to leave camp at the Col. Everyone around me looks like an expressionless zombie. But there is plenty of emotion, just not on our frozen faces. Anticipation, hope, excitement, enthusiasm, fear, anxiety. I am acutely aware of all the climbers who have made the tough decision to stay put in the safety of their tents and not attempt to go any higher. Most of them will head back down to base camp in the morning, disappointed that they did not get to take a shot at the top because of the weather. They will feel robbed that their season on Everest will end without a summit. I know that feeling all too well. This mountain and I have a history.

Now the wind is really screaming. Or maybe it’s my brain that is screaming, not sure. Most likely it is both. The temperature continues to drop. Even when I’m standing still my face stings from the wind and the ice. But I know I need to start climbing. How could this possibly get any worse? At least I know our base camp staff is standing by on radio in case of an emergency.

11:00 p.m. We have lost radio contact with base camp.…

My first attempt on Mount Everest was in 2002 when I served as the team captain of the first American Women’s Everest Expedition, which was sponsored by the Ford Motor Company. Our team came within a couple hundred feet of the top of the mountain when we were forced to turn back because of deteriorating weather conditions. Although we didn’t get to the summit, it was a phenomenal experience—but one that I swore I would never repeat. Once was enough. I didn’t really feel the need to spend another two months on that mountain (not to mention all the time I would need to put into training prior to the climb) just to take in the views from the very tippy-top; the views from the South Summit at 28,700 feet above sea level were spectacular enough. Going a few hundred feet farther wasn’t going to change my world or anybody else’s. I honestly felt like I had the whole “Everest experience” already. Yet there I was, eight years later, back on that mountain, in the same exact situation, ready to go for the top—and in comes a storm again.

But we can’t control the environment; all we can control is the way we react to it. Most people positioned at the high camp the night of May 23, 2010, abandoned their summit attempt, as my team did back in 2002 when the jet stream got the best of us. And while I found myself in a similarly harrowing position during round two on Everest, the entire experience was remarkably different. This time, I was a better climber. Not because I was physically stronger at age forty-four than I was at age thirty-six, because I wasn’t. But the second time around I had the advantage of another eight years of mountaineering experience under my belt (or rather, my climbing harness). I had also done some extreme ski expeditions across Antarctica and the Arctic Circle, which further helped me gauge my risk tolerance and my pain threshold. But more than anything, what really helped me handle myself well on the mountain was the knowledge I had gained about leadership. This book is about those lessons.

There is no shortage of leadership books written by presidents, politicians, CEOs, psychologists, military heroes, and executive coaches. I am none of the above. My take on leadership comes primarily from my experiences as a high-altitude mountaineer and polar explorer. In addition to serving as the team captain of the first American Women’s Everest Expedition, I have climbed the highest peak on every continent (the Seven Summits) and skied to both the North and South Poles, an achievement known as the Adventure Grand Slam.^* My adventures have taken me to some of the harshest, most remote places on the planet, where determination is every bit as important as skill when it comes to survival.

Almost all of my expeditions have been fraught with hurdles brought about by harsh conditions, malfunctioning equipment, difficult climbing partners, and logistical mishaps—not to mention my own health issues. I was born with a life-threatening heart condition that has required three surgical procedures. I also suffer from a circulatory disease that affects my blood vessels and puts me at high risk of frostbite—so doctors have always told me to avoid cold environments. I guess I don’t always listen. The stories in this book document how I approached and tackled these various challenges and illustrate many of the principles I followed. Or wish I had followed.

Off the mountain, as a leadership development consultant and keynote speaker, I have addressed hundreds of global organizations in the midst of their own marketplace and workplace challenges. This book’s insights also reflect my two decades working with and speaking to leaders in business, politics, sports, and academia, as well as my work as an adjunct professor at the United States Military Academy at West Point in the Department of Behavioral Sciences and Leadership. There, I had the privilege of working side by side with top academic and military faculty to help the West Point cadets prepare for the life-and-death situations they may face while serving our country as army officers once they graduate.

On the Edge is a handbook for everyone: senior executives, junior executives, politicians, administrative personnel, educators, and students. It is for mothers and fathers and athletes and coaches. Good, sound leadership is necessary not just in corporate environments and government buildings but at home, in schools, and on playing fields.

Everyone is in a leadership position—regardless of age or title or tenure or where we work. Leadership has nothing to do with salary level or how many people report to you or how much revenue you produce or how large of a budget you oversee. I don’t care whether you’ve worked for a particular firm for ten years or ten months or ten minutes.

Leadership is everyone’s responsibility. It is not solely the responsibility of the C-level executives or the management team within an organization. We are all in a position to proactively work toward having a positive effect on the people around us. Everyone in an organization is responsible for helping to move forward with the mission; but in addition, all employees/teammates/people must realize it is also their responsibility to look out for the people on either side of them and to help those people move in the right direction as well.

Granted, the challenges that most folks come up against in their companies, careers, and everyday lives rarely present the same physical dangers that mountaineers or polar explorers encounter. But while the surroundings are completely different, many of the lessons learned have strong applicability in both settings. Few could argue that we are indeed living in extreme times. Our economic, governmental, social, technological, and environmental landscapes are constantly shifting and changing. Every organization’s budgets are tight, resources are slim, and markets move at a breakneck pace. The result is unprecedented volatility and risk for companies as well as their employees. More than ever, there is intense pressure to not just survive but to thrive. And just as it’s easy to get lost on a mountain during a sudden whiteout and lose sight of the summit, it’s also easy to get lost in the unpredictable chaos of modern-day life and lose sight of our personal and professional aspirations as well as our responsibilities to those around us.

Of course when you are high up in the death zone on a big Himalayan peak or are crossing hundreds of miles of polar ice on skis, underperforming isn’t about losing market share. It’s about losing lives, or perhaps a few critical body parts. The stakes are high when there is real flesh in the game, and therefore the leaders I find most intriguing are not necessarily the people at the helm of America’s most admired companies; they are the people who enable teams to survive and thrive in extreme environments. And I’ve been lucky enough to have had the opportunity to learn from some of the best.

Leadership in extreme environments requires the willpower, the teamwork, the high moral character, and the emotional intelligence necessary to overcome exceptional hurdles, solve complex problems, and face any sudden, uncontrollable, high-risk situation, including those that exist in today’s business world. The global economy is more unpredictable than ever, and we each have more on the line as we try to navigate its shifting terrain: careers, reputations, financial futures, perhaps even lives. The potential costs of a mistake—be they professional, monetary, or emotional—can be high if we do not make the right choices.

The leadership principles that apply in extreme adventure sports also apply in today’s extreme business environments. Both settings require you to be able to make crucial decisions on the spot when the conditions around you are far from perfect. Your survival—and the survival of your team—depends on it.

My hope is that this book will serve as an engaging leadership manual through concrete insights and lessons—applicable to business as well as to other aspects of life. I intend to provide a framework to help people scale whatever big peaks—literal or figurative—they aspire to climb by sharing my practical, humorous (sometimes… sort of…), and often unorthodox advice about how to grow as a leader. I’m opening my entire playbook for you—something I can’t do from the podium during a formal keynote presentation. I’m giving you all the bits and pieces that I tend to hold back when I’m addressing the senior management of a Big 4 accounting firm during its annual partners meeting, where I really have to watch my p’s and q’s. You will find my approach candid, direct, and perhaps even politically incorrect, because that’s how people tend to talk to each other when there’s no one from human resources around. And be forewarned… some of my advice is flat-out contrarian. It may fly in the face of other books or advice from your highly paid executive coach.

Here are just a few pieces of advice that may seem a little baffling at first glance:

Look for teammates with big egos.
When you’re making progress, turn around and change direction.
Practice sleep deprivation.
Don’t try to overcome weakness.
Success can be a problem.

But I promise you that there is method to my madness and a rationale behind these recommendations. The information compiled in this book isn’t just from my own expedition arsenal; I have assembled advice and stories from some phenomenal leaders who show why these practices make sense. Most of these people have never read Jack Welch’s books, nor do they subscribe to the Harvard Business Review, but they know how to lead when lives are on the line.

Developing yourself as a leader should be a deliberate, conscious process. Think about how much time and energy (and dollars) people spend on achieving optimal physical health—yet few people put the time and effort into strengthening their leadership skills. Just as building muscle strength requires a repetitive routine, the more time you spend focusing on your leadership skills, the stronger they will become. Think P90X, but for leadership instead of your abs.

This book will help you build your “leadership muscles.” That doesn’t happen as a result of getting a new title or a promotion, or by working a set number of years for an organization. None of these things have anything to do with leadership.

Leadership is an attitude. Every one of us on this planet is in a leadership position. We all have a responsibility to help one another. If you look at what’s happening in the world today, I think you’ll agree that the challenges are huge, but the opportunities are even greater. What we say matters. What we do makes a difference. And how we lead has impact. We all need to be better leaders. If we put some effort into that, there is no limit to the amount of positive influence we can have on the people around us.

Alison Levine

2013

Disclaimer: I have described the various events that took place on my expeditions over the years to the best of my recollection. Some of the names and identities have been changed. It is possible that there are minor errors in this book, which I assure you are unintentional. Some of the entries from my expedition blogs were slightly tweaked in order to correct grammar and spelling (it’s not always easy to get that stuff right at altitude). If there are any glaring errors or omissions, they are probably the fault of my ghostwriter. Her name is Alison Levine, in case you would like to direct any complaints her way.