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recruiting some other people with practical experience, but they’ll mostly be needed when the camp is up and running. I’m planning to go also, but I can’t be there in the beginning.”
    â€œThat’s all?”
    â€œFor the moment, yes. But like I said, once the camp gets going we’ll increase the staff. At this stage it’s really a pilot program. That’s why, if you’re serious, someone like you would be so valuable. You could tell us what we’ll need for the other camps. I’m hoping this will be the first of many.”
    â€œHow old is your organization?” I asked. “Did you start it after the earthquake?”
    â€œYes,” he said. “It was something I wanted to do for a long time. But the earthquake made it a necessity.”
    â€œA necessity?”
    He smiled, thinly.
    â€œYes,” he said. “A necessity. If you’d seen what I have you’d understand what I mean.”
    I nodded.
    â€œSo,” I said. “What did you do before this? You must have had another career.”
    â€œFor a long time I was a mountaineer,” he said. “A climber. I’ve given that up now.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI had an experience in the mountains that made me realize I was on the wrong path.”
    I took a bite of salad.
    â€œAre you going to tell me what it was?” I asked, after a moment.
    I knew it was the question he’d been waiting for. But he took his time nonetheless, finishing his glass of wine, pouring himself another.
    â€œDo you know what it means for a climber to climb an eight-thousand-meter peak?” he asked.
    â€œI think so,” I said.
    â€œIt means you’re among the best in the world. Only a few thousand people have done it.”
    I waited.
    â€œWe were a small expedition,” he continued. “We were climbing alpine style. That means fast and light, with minimal equipment. But my partner couldn’t go on summit day. He’d twisted his knee. It was so swollen he could hardly bend it.”
    He took a swallow of wine.
    â€œSo I went for the summit on my own. I was stupid back then. We weren’t the only expedition on the mountain. There were other climbers going for the summit that morning, and I thought they could help if anything happened. I convinced myself it was safe to go, even though it wasn’t. I’d sold almost everything I had to get there.”
    As he spoke, I realized that the pace of his speech had increased, and again I got a glimpse of how he’d been in the lecture hall—a glint in his eye, incantation in his voice.
    â€œThe weather was good,” he said. “It wasn’t that cold. But there was a lot of fresh snow. So I waited for the other group to leave, and then I followed their tracks. They were an hour or so ahead of me. They broke the trail. I followed their route. They put in protection, and I used it. I couldn’t have done it otherwise.”
    He shook his head, as if marveling at his younger self.
    â€œI made good time because they’d done the work. It was a perfectly clear day, and there was very little wind. I could see for hundreds of miles. There aren’t any other peaks around that mountain. I could see fields, I could see valleys. I felt as if I could see the entire world. I was alone. It was beautiful. All I couldhear was my own breathing and my own footsteps in the snow. I was scared, also. I felt as though death was all around me.”
    He smiled.
    â€œI was at almost eight thousand meters by myself. Not many people can say that.”
    â€œWhat mountain was it?” I asked.
    â€œThat doesn’t matter,” he replied. “It’s not important.”
    I looked at him, puzzled.
    â€œDid you catch up to the other group?”
    â€œThat’s the point of the story,” he said. “I was on a ridge just below the final snowfield to the summit. I was about four hundred meters below