by Sue Williams
The pair headed off but Glenn saw the one who was struggling had fouled himself, and looked on the brink of collapse. He knew the pair weren’t even through the worst of it yet: there were still some big hills to go. The tough guy could well be playing with his friend’s life. So Glenn raced back up the hill to them, and got one of his party to take the strong one aside before he fronted up to the one in trouble. ‘Look, mate, do you want to get out of here?’ Glenn asked him. He nodded mutely. ‘Have you got insurance?’ The man shook his head. ‘Well, it’s going to cost you about five grand.’ The man shrugged. ‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I just want to get out of here.’ So Glenn called a chopper and left as he heard it approach.
But apart from the people who tried to trek Kokoda when they obviously hadn’t done any exercise for years, or those who arrived with a few cans of food and a great deal of misplaced hope, or even those carrying tonnes of tins of beans and no can-opener, it was always a trip Glenn relished.
‘One of the things I love about Kokoda is that you don’t have phones – apart from the satellite phone for emergencies – and people can’t contact you,’ he says. ‘And out there, it’s so peaceful and quiet, I solve the world’s problems. Sometimes I can’t see a way out of problems and I feel I can’t take any more pressure, but you get out there into the jungle, with no mobile phones, no internet, and just walk through trees and talk to people, and somehow you get some real clarity and realise your problems aren’t that big a deal.’
Over the years, he’s taken a huge variety of people out there. There have been fourteen- and fifteen-year-old kids who have gone with their parents, and he’s watched some amazing relationships develop. The kids started interacting with their parents as young adults, he says, and their parents started responding differently to them.
‘A lot of people need to have their boundaries pushed a little to realise how capable they really are. For a lot of people doing Kokoda, it’s the first time they’ve even camped. And it can be life changing – for good or bad! We call it the Kokoda Curse. Women sometimes do Kokoda, then come back and get divorced. One woman cried on top of every mountain, and at the end of it she told me her husband had organised an intervention for her when she’d told him she was going to Kokoda, with his parents and her parents. They told her she had kids and was being irresponsible going there, as she could die. It was incredible. But by the end, she said she felt so much stronger.’
Glenn’s favourite trip was in July 2011, when he went over to lead a trek of Afghanistan veterans who’d all been badly affected by their time there, whether with severe physical injuries or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. One of the men was Damien Thomlinson, a former commando who’d lost both his legs after the vehicle he was in drove over a Taliban bomb. His mate Scott Palmer dragged him from the wreckage, tourniqued his wounds and saved his life, but was then killed in a chopper crash a week before he was due to return to Australia. Thomlinson was joined on the trek by Palmer’s father – whose last conversation with his son had been about doing Kokoda together one day – and the whole Kokoda trek was filmed by Channel 7’s Sunday Night program.
It was hard, a lot harder than they’d imagined. ‘Damien’s got prosthetics but the computer that controls them locks if it senses that he’s falling, and the steps on Kokoda are so high, every time he tried to take a step his leg locked. So he took one leg off and used crutches,’ says Glenn. ‘But he’d lost half of his shoulder and triceps so he didn’t have the strength in his upper body. Half the time we’d start walking in the dark while everyone else was asleep, and they’d overtake us very early in the morning. He would then walk until his arms fatigued and he couldn’t lift himself any more. Then the locals would make a stretcher and they and some of the other soldiers would stretcher-carry him across the track.
‘We would get in late at night and they were long, hard days. Some of these soldiers would carry two backpacks while the others would carry the stretcher. They really showed what being a soldier was about – and we made it across the track. It got quite emotional at times. But that was a really cool thing to be a part of.’
Glenn and Alyssa set off for Kokoda in April 2012 with a full contingent of trekkers intent on commemorating the seventieth anniversary. Alyssa’s eager to return; she was so young the first time and this trip will be much more about the history. She also feels she knows much more about the mindset of soldiers, since learning the lessons of Warrior Training and knowing them almost by heart.
In the meantime, Glenn has actually written to the book’s author, Keith Fennell, telling him how much he liked his book. Fennell wrote back to thank him, and the two started communicating. They have plenty in common, having both served in the army and having similar interests. Slowly, a friendship has steadily been building, with Alyssa watching on with interest.
This time on the trek, she’s much more relaxed: she’s confident she’ll be able to do it, although she knows it’s never easy. Also, she’s started helping her dad with the organising, as they have around fifty people trekking across a few groups, and she’s keen to learn more about what leading adventure treks involve. One day, she hopes, she might be leading treks herself.
‘It’s wonderful to be on the track in the anniversary year and over Anzac Day,’ Alyssa says. ‘I knew it was going to be the best Kokoda experience I’d ever had. Being on the track where our diggers fought is very humbling.
‘It’s funny, though, because there are so many people from all parts of Australia, I didn’t think any of them would really know me. I thought I’d just tag quietly along, helping Dad. But instead I get bombarded with questions: Do you remember this? Do you remember that? It’s a very different experience to what I’m used to, but it’s an enjoyable trip at the same time. Of course, I’m older now too, so I don’t get anything like the same reaction from the local villagers, so it’s nice to have a bit less attention there!’
Watching on, Greg Chamberlain, a friend of Glenn’s who used to work at the gym and is now running another group for him, wonders how Alyssa will cope with the group dynamics. He knows her as a very quiet girl back home who spends a lot of time working out on her own.
‘But she mixes very well with everyone,’ he says. ‘We have people on that trip from fifteen to fifty-plus and she gets on with them all. Normally girls her age would have trouble with that, but she doesn’t. As they trek, some in the group make up funny songs about people in the group, and everyone sings them to a well-known tune they nominate, to keep themselves going. She joins in with all that. At the same time, she’s like a little sponge. She listens to others and watches how we lead the treks, and soaks it all up. She’s pretty impressive.’
The weather is worse this time, however, and that’s a challenge. Eventually, everyone gives up on trying to keep themselves, their clothes and their gear dry. Alyssa merely welcomes the rain and damp as another way of getting used to discomfort.
‘It’s all about discipline,’ she says. ‘Discipline is going through pain to achieve your goals and become who you want to be. I’m willing to do maybe what others aren’t to get where I need to go. Sometimes things get very tough and you need to have courage and discipline to get through those times. If a goal is worth achieving it won’t be easy, but it will definitely be worth it.’
Every new hurdle Alyssa gets over, she celebrates it as another achievement in her bid to get up Everest. ‘I have shown myself that nothing is impossible,’ she says. ‘I am just a fifteen-year-old girl from a small town in Australia, but I was always taught to believe in my dreams and to become bigger and better.
‘My goal of climbing Everest comes from my pure love of the mountains, nature and adventure. But I have to say, if I could encourage anyone to go out and truly live and believe in the “crazy” and “impossible” dreams they have, that would be very fulfilling for me.’
CHAPTER 16
Everest’s Youngest Australian:
Rex Pemberton
There were always
plenty of people keen to tell Alyssa Azar that her plan to climb Everest was crazy and that she was far too young to attempt anything so monumental. Often, she’d retreat to her books both about and by people who’d managed to summit, and watch films over and over again about their triumphs over adversity. She also kept a close eye on other people who had attempted the climb, and followed their progress carefully.
One in particular captured her imagination. Sydneysider Rex Pemberton was just twenty-one years old when, in 2005, he became the youngest Australian ever to climb to the summit.
Pemberton grew up rock climbing with his dad and brother from the age of eight and ascended his first mountain, in South America, at sixteen. Then, inspired by the achievements of fellow Australian Jesse Martin who, in 1999 at the age of eighteen, had become the youngest person ever to sail solo around the world unassisted, he wanted to conquer Everest.
‘I’ve always believed in following my passion and seeing where it would lead,’ he says now. ‘And Everest was where it led. I knew it would be tough, and I prepared mentally and physically. I read a lot of books, watched a lot of documentaries, learnt all I could about the mountain, and hoped I’d be okay.’
During his climb, Alyssa followed his progress closely, especially when a massive avalanche destroyed sixty tents at Camp I and Pemberton lost a lot of his oxygen and climbing gear. As he continued on up, bad weather arrived, and forced other members of his expedition team down. The monsoon season had arrived late, and strong winds blasted the mountain every day. But Pemberton kept going.
‘I suppose I identified with him a bit more than many others as he was quite young too,’ says Alyssa. ‘I was willing him on. I felt he had a lot of determination, and I really wanted him to succeed.’
And finally he did. On 31 May 2005, he reached the summit and became the youngest Australian ever to do so.
Although, like Alyssa, he’d worked hard on his preparation, he freely admits he was very lucky too. ‘There were moments I felt really, really bad,’ he says, ‘and I thought, What am I doing here? This is ridiculous! You do a lot of soul-searching up there. It’s such a wild environment and I was away for three months, which is a long time.
‘But I’d put in an enormous amount of effort and work beforehand, and I never wanted to give up. At some stages you do think, I could just give up now and go back. That would be so easy to do. But you just put one foot in front of the other, and hope that things will get better and the weather will improve. I was totally driven to achieve the summit.
‘The hardest thing was the weather and working out the right time for the summit push. We sat and waited for two weeks with bad weather and you start thinking, Maybe the mountain isn’t going to let me go. That was tough. The physical effort is exhausting, but that mental strain is much worse. Then finally the weather gave me a very small window to make it and I just went for it.’
Pemberton admits his youth did make it harder for him. Others in his expedition were wary of him, wondering if he’d be up to it, and keen not to be held back by such a young man. ‘So I had a lot to prove and that can be a dangerous thing,’ he says. ‘I was watched very closely by others until they realised I could make good decisions. We all know that one bad decision can cost you your life up there – and endanger the rest of your team.
‘In the mountains, it’s your mind that will break first. It’s 40 per cent physical strength and 60 per cent mental strength. It’s so easy to give it all up. That takes the pain away and the hurt and the cold and the tiredness and frustration about the weather.
‘I also think maybe being young wasn’t to my advantage when we hit the Death Zone. Acclimatising was difficult and I think having so much nervous energy didn’t help. I got altitude sickness before I even got to Base Camp! I had to calm myself down and let my team go ahead, and then start later. It didn’t help that I was nervous about what lay ahead, especially as I’d never been above 8000 metres before. There’s also a lot of outside pressure when you’re young, especially when you have sponsors behind you.’
But then again, Everest is incredibly difficult for everyone, regardless of age, he believes. He’s heard of many extremely experienced climbers who won’t go near Everest. Then there’s the complexity of picking the right expedition and guide to go with. The one you end up with might not be anything like as passionate and determined to get to the top, as they might have been there twelve times already.
These days, Pemberton is on another quest: to climb the Seven Summits. From his base on the west coast of the US, and through his own company, RPMP, he’s an adventurer who has delivered more than 250 of his Reach for the Summit corporate presentations to over 35 000 people around the world, talking about planning and preparation, goal-setting, motivation, teamwork, risk management and overcoming obstacles – all in the context of climbing Everest.
Because Everest, and the lessons it imparts, are never far from his mind. ‘But I don’t mind at all if Alyssa takes away my record as the youngest Australian to make it, as well as becoming the youngest non-Sherpa female in the world to get to the top,’ he laughs. ‘If someone beats my record, that will fill my heart with joy! I just want to spur on any young Australians going out and having adventures.
‘I think girls are just as tough as boys. You have to have the skill and preparation behind you, but you also need the right wind and temperature and the right day up there, and the courage to utilise that lucky window.
‘It’s all about following your passion. Life is a gift, and you only get one shot at it.’
CHAPTER 17
Climbing in Ice and Snow
May your dreams be larger than mountains and may you have the courage to scale their summits.’
– US WRITER, POET AND MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER HARLEY KING
While Alyssa Azar knuckled down to her training, her dad was keen to support her all he could without overly encouraging her. He knew how dangerous Everest could be, and wanted to make sure she knew it too. On his next trip to Everest Base Camp, he returned not only with an Everest calendar for her, but also every book and DVD he could find on everything that had ever gone wrong on the mountainside.
‘I wanted her to understand the worst-case scenarios, not the best,’ he says. ‘It’s easy for her to imagine herself sitting on the top of this mountain and it’s all glorious and the weather is beautiful, but that’s not reality. I hope that happens, but there’s a good chance it’s not going to. But I know Alyssa. If she gets something in her head it’s going to happen, with you or without you. If I’d refused to help, it might have held her back a year or two but it was never going to stop her doing it.’
Alyssa, in turn, watched every DVD spellbound, pored over every book. She wasn’t put off in the slightest. ‘It just makes me realise how well prepared I have to be for every possibility,’ she says. ‘But discouraged?’ She laughs. ‘No, not at all. It made me feel even more excited for when I’ll finally have a chance to climb.’
While Glenn continued to keep the dangers at the forefront of his daughter’s mind, he also admired her resolve. In addition, a friend’s daughter went to a party celebrating the end of Year 12 and was hit by a taxi and killed. At the funeral, the girl’s mum told Glenn how much she regretted all the times she’d forbidden her daughter to go out and do things.
‘So part of me thinks about all those things,’ says Glenn. ‘I know other people probably wouldn’t understand that, and if something happens to Alyssa it will be so hard to bear, but you don’t always have the rest of your life to do things.’
Alyssa wanted to work on her rock-climbing skills, so Glenn bought her the special climbing shoes, chalk and the chalk bag she’d tie around her waist to keep it in. She’d been watching some of the best rock climbers in the world on YouTube, particularly Frenchwoman Catherine Destivelle, who climbed solo and without ropes. She raced up the side of steep rock faces that looked so smooth and sheer, it was impossible to see any features that could possibly act as hand and footho
lds. With her fingertips searching out minute dents and cracks, she looked like a spider as she scuttled her way up, seemingly effortlessly.
There was an indoor rock-climbing wall locally, and Alyssa became a regular visitor when Glenn finished work every day and was free to belay for her – holding the ropes that secured her if she fell. Every time, she became a little better. He then drove her over to Brisbane to try out the walls there. It wasn’t long before she’d conquered all of those too.
But they both knew if she stood any chance at Everest she’d also need some experience, and expertise, at rock climbing outdoors in the ice and snow. There were a number of courses on offer in New Zealand, around its Southern Alps. The cost, though, was high: $5450 for her plus a companion to go with her. So far, Glenn had financed all of Alyssa’s expenses from either his own pocket, through her sponsor psyborg, from donations to her quest via her website or from people calling after hearing about her story in the media, but there wasn’t much spare cash for this trip.
‘I’d made a promise to her to support her, but we were a bit blown away by the cost,’ he says. ‘But I said I’d do everything I could to raise it, and she should just focus on the climbing and the training. Then someone sent me a link to the crowd-funding site pozible.com, through which you appeal for donations for funds for a project.’
The pair put up a photo of Alyssa and called the project ‘The Road to Mount Everest’. They explained how they needed $5450 for the rock-climbing course to get Alyssa ready. From the day the request was submitted to the international site, set up to encourage creative or daring projects, there were sixty days for supporters to pledge funds. If the total wasn’t reached by the deadline, no one needed to pay up. If the total was reached, then people were obliged to come good on their donations.
Slowly but surely the money trickled in – from locals in Toowoomba who’d heard so much about Alyssa through the local newspaper and radio, from people around Australia who’d been impressed with what they’d seen of her on TV, heard in interviews on radio or from visiting her website, and even a few donors from overseas. Some gave $10; one gave $400 and a good luck message. Every day, Alyssa and Glenn checked the total. On the fifty-ninth day they realised they were just $100 short. If they didn’t raise that final amount by midday on the sixtieth day, they wouldn’t be able to claim the $5350 others had offered. With just ten minutes to go, Glenn paid the final $100 himself.
