It's time to tell you all I'm going on another expedition. But first, let me explain how it has come to this. Almost as often as people tell me I think too much, they also say it's amazing I get to do all the fun things I do. I wonder if it ever occurred to them that there might be a relationship there?

I had the good fortune of being an American born at end of the 20th Century, but my adventures don't happen by blind luck. They are the result of decisions I make after much careful thought. They aren't one-off occurrences either, but rather the product of methodical planning. My next mountaineering expedition is a good example.

From reading books, I recognized many elements in the sport of mountaineering that appealed to me, although I'd never done anything like it before. In 1998, I decided to try it and laid out a little plan, a timeline, of successive mountaineering objectives I wanted to accomplish. Each objective required all the skills learned from the previous, and then added something new. For instance, the first goal (step A) was simply to go camping and learn how to put up a tent and sleep outside. The next goal (step B) combined camping and a hike to an altitude of 3000 meters.

My plan wasn't just an idea. I gave it the form of an ASCII file on my computer. I'm still using it four years later. If, at anytime, I no longer enjoy mountaineering, then I can close the file and move on to something else. It's just for enjoyment after all. But the plan itself is quite serious and has an end game - me coming safely back down from the summit of the highest mountain on Earth! I will probably stop my plan before that occurs, but while I'm involved in this sport, Everest seems like the logical ultimate goal, whether I ever get there or not.

My first experience with full-on technical glacier mountaineering (step C) came in 1999 at a mountaineering school. The camp was on snow, not dirt. It was longer in duration, six days, which added the element of meal planning and vastly increased the physical demands Although the environment included snow slopes, glacial ice, and winter weather, the trip never ascended above 2000 meters, keeping the effects of altitude minimized to maximize the technical learning process.

My fourth trip (D) was intended to be a non-technical, but snowy 4000-meter mountain, to learn how I responded to higher altitudes before going high on a technical mountain. The fifth (E) was to be a technical 3000-meter peak, to hone my technical skills, and then, on the sixth trip (F), I'd be ready for a technical 4000-meter summit. After those accomplishments, I could honestly call myself full-fledged mountaineer with at least a little experience. I'd be ready for international expeditions to exotic and high mountains.

The plan had to be re-arranged a little when I failed to complete the non-technical 4000 meter climb (D), and then I was offered a rare opportunity to climb Mt. Rainier with the Alpine Ascents group. Although not quite sure I was ready, I accepted the offer and successfully climbed Rainier a year early, in the summer of 2000.

Thus I completed step (F) before steps (D) and (E). Step D became superfluous with the accomplishment of (F), although I attempted it a second time (and failed a second time) just for fun in 2001. Step (E) was still a valid objective, which I accomplished when I summited Mt. Baker in August of 2001.

So, in just four years, I've been able to go from having never been camping on my own to being fit and ready for an international mountaineering expedition. It has happened quickly and efficiently (read as comparatively inexpensive) because each trip wasn't a random event but figured into an overarching plan. That's how I tend to do most everything in life.

It's easy to accomplish amazing achievements when you identify your goal and organize little baby steps to get there. If your goal is lofty, you might need to subdivide your steps. For instance, before I could attempt step (D), I had to train enough to carry a 60 lbs. backpack up 2000 ft. in two hours. To get what you want out of life, just figure out what it takes and do it. It's that simple. You can have it all, although not at the same time.

Now that I've paused to explain the method to my mountaineering madness, I'd like to fill you in on my expedition. I'm attempting to climb two mountains in Mexico at the end of this month. Both mountains are cone-shaped extinct volcanoes. The first is called Mt. Iztaccihuatl and is located 90 miles East of Mexico City, right next door to the erupting active volcano there. The second is called El Pico de Orizaba. Orizaba is 100 miles further East overlooking the city of Veracruz.

The trip will last 10 days, with about four days on each mountain. The expedition will satisfy steps (G) and (H) of my plan by being my first international expedition, my first expedition lasting more than a week, and by climbing on technical terrain to an altitude exceeding 5000 meters.

It is that final objective that is the true test of this trip. 5000 meters is serious business. You can't get to that kind of altitude in the continental U.S. Very thin air will be an enormous factor in the difficulty of the climb. 5000 meters is high enough that the ailments of Pulmonary Edema and Cerebral Edema are a concern. Our high camp will be at 4000 meters where the overnight temperature will fall far below freezing - and most of the climbing above high camp will occur at night.

I'm a little worried about this one. Not for my safety, I always do my best to minimize the risks involved. Yes, something bad might happen, but if I do everything right the risk is minimal enough that there is no need to worry over it. What I'm worried about is whether or not I can do it. Have I trained enough? Am I strong enough? Do I have the will power? Is my fear of heights going to freeze me up and prevent me from going higher? This climb isn't cheap. I'm going to be in debt for a year when I'm done. That means I'm foregoing any other climbing opportunities for a year to do this.

I must succeed. But will I? That's definitely a worry.

Wednesday, October 17 2001