Personal Narrative: Into Thin Air

I was nine years old when I endured my first climb, a 9,000-foot volcano in the Cascade Range. For years after, I aspired to become a severe and committed climber. One who lives off the rush of energy fixed inside from the risk of the climb. One who takes in every step, hears every icicle fall, sees every inch as being closer to the summit.
I wished to one day to reach the apex of Mount Everest, one of the world’s toughest climbs. Unfortunately, as I grew older, it lost much of its climbing status and I barely thought about attempting it, especially since prices for a sherpa or guide can reach to over $65,000. It was a delusion from the past, and that’s where it stayed. Until I received a message.
It’s March 1995 and I’m sitting at the kitchen
Her face simultaneously displays an expression of prosperity and worry. Her words and actions sincerely show she believes it’s too soon and that it wouldn’t be safe for me to go with little training for such a climb, especially since it had been years since my last mountain. I contemplate the options and come to an idea that would diminish all wary thoughts.
The next day, Linda awaits impatiently by me while I converse with the editor of the magazine. Budgets, negotiations, and convincing take place on both ends of the line. When I set down the phone, I take a deep breath, look at her and quietly utter, “I guess we’ll have to talk through a radio in twelve months.” What I didn’t know at that point was this once-in-a-lifetime trip turns into a battle for survival.
Inside the pages of Into Thin Air, Jon Krakauer displays in a morose but nostalgic way how human relationships are strengthened and built during crisis. The Mount Everest Disaster of 1996 may be an immense part of the novel, but facts and experience translates into emotions and human struggle. From guilt for a friends death to love for the family you worry you will never see again, Krakauer covers it all in a touching and educational