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them. There were three of them, roped up. I could see them. They were Polish, and really strong. They were at the top of the game.”
    He paused again.
    â€œThe snowfield scared me,” he said. “It was loaded with fresh snow. It was obviously unstable. But the summit was right there, and they couldn’t resist it. They went for it. I didn’t know what to do. So I stopped and watched them. They knew the risk they were taking. They moved as slowly and as carefully as they could, and they almost made it.”
    He shook his head a final time.
    â€œIt was a huge slide. It took all three of them down the face. They fell at least three thousand meters. One moment they were there, and the next they were gone. I was safe on the rock band. It just went by me, and there was nothing I could do.”
    â€œDidn’t you go get help?”
    He laughed.
    â€œThey fell almost ten thousand feet. They didn’t need any help.” He paused. “Do you know what my first thought was?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œI thought, there’s no avalanche danger now.”
    He closed his eyes again, then opened them.
    â€œMy first thought was that the summit was wide open. Three hours away at most. Perfect weather. Early in the day. No problem.”
    â€œThen why didn’t you do it?” I asked.
    â€œBecause my second thought was that I’d just seen three men die, and I realized it was for nothing. If I hadn’t stopped to watch them, and had started up the snowfield, I would have been dead as well. My death also would have been for nothing. I’d been lucky as a climber up to that point. I hadn’t seen anyone get killed. But suddenly I learned what it really is, what kind of risk I was taking. And I realized that I’d become someone I didn’t want to be. Someone who would think of the summit first, and human life second. Someone who defined everything in terms of his own personal ambition and accomplishment. The only person in the world who would care if I climbed that mountain was me. No one else. And climbing it wouldn’t have mattered any more than dying in the avalanche. I saw all of that on the ridge that day. I sat there, and looked down at the view for a while, and then I turned around, and went back to the high camp, and helped my partner down like I should have from the beginning. I gave up high-altitude climbing after that.”
    â€œAnd you started to do relief work.”
    â€œNot right away. It took me a long time to understand what I wanted to do. But I realized I wanted my life to mean something. I wanted it to have significance. I didn’t want to be just another dead mountaineer. Or even just another famous one. There are lots of those.
    â€œIt’s terrible to say this, I know,” he continued. “But in many ways the earthquake was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
    I didn’t know how to reply. If he noticed my unease, however, he gave no sign. He ate the rest of the appetizers quickly, washed them down with the wine, and refilled his glass from the bottle on the table. He tapped his fingers on the table.
    â€œThey’re slow here,” he said. “I hate bad service.”
    If anything, my confusion about him deepened.
    â€œSo,” he said, finally. “Tell me why you’re buying me dinner.”
    â€œAs I said, I’m curious about your organization and what you’re trying to do.”
    â€œIt’s quite simple. We’re trying to save a population at risk. You can do two things to help us. Give us money or volunteer your time. Or both. Or, of course, you can do neither.”
    â€œYes,” I replied. “I understand that.”
    For the first time since we’d sat down, he looked at me directly. He smiled, wearily and quickly.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “I appreciate your interest, I really do. I’m just tired.”
    I nodded.
    â€œWhy don’t you tell me