A Mountain Woman

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Mountains taught me to be patient, humble, and accept my failures and learn from them. I had to climb many internal Everests to be able to stand on the real one. Facing challenges, taking risks, tackling the things that frighten me the most—these are precisely the things that have most empowered me, as well as inspiring our scholarship girls to follow in my footsteps. These girls are attempting something that is absolutely unprecedented, to become the first ones in their villages to attain an education and pursue a professional career.

They will become engineers, doctors, mountaineers, or teachers. Read Caption. This woman climbs mountains to empower girls around the globe Sara Safari shares the real reason she climbs, what she's learned from her failures, and how she tackles sexism on the mountain. By Lindsay N. What inspired you to start mountain climbing? Have you ever felt excluded or marginalized from the climbing world because of your gender?

How did you respond? Sara Safari. Photograph courtesy, Sara Safari. How did you get connected with Empower Nepali Girls? Tell us about the organization and its goals. Have any of the girls from the group learned to climb or taken on adventures of their own? What has mountain climbing taught you beyond the skills required to get to the summit? Pull Quote It is about learning how to deal with fears and failures—making friends with them and welcoming them as a part of the summit plan.

You've long connected advocacy work with your climbing. What's in store next? What advice do you have for girls looking to pursue their passions?

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This interview has been edited for length and clarity. The air has so little oxygen that even with tanks, it can feel like "running on a treadmill and breathing through a straw," American mountaineer and filmmaker David Breashears once said. Climbers can experience violent, rib-cracking coughs and dangerous swelling in the brain and lungs. Lhakpa Sherpa atop Everest in Despite the challenges that a lack of oxygen poses, hikers must climb fairly quickly to reach the summit around 5 a. At the summit, I truly feel on top of the world," she said. Even though most climbers would like to linger at the top, Sherpa knows they can only spend 20 minutes there — time to snap a few photos — before heading back down out of the death zone.

The 2-mile trek back to the safety of base camp takes 12 hours.

Sherpa's teams usually reaches camp just as the sun sets, and she breathes easier than she has all day. Greenwich Entertainment. This post was originally published on August 2, , and has been updated with new death tolls. World globe An icon of the world globe, indicating different international options. Search icon A magnifying glass.

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'No mountain too high' for these UAE women who successfully climb Mt. Everest | Uae – Gulf News

It indicates a way to close an interaction, or dismiss a notification. Hilary Brueck. May 28, , AM. Facebook Icon The letter F. Link icon An image of a chain link. It symobilizes a website link url. Email icon An envelope. I like mountains that go beyond the clouds, with terrible shadows in the hollows, and belts of snow lying in the gorges where the sun cannot reach, and the snow is blue in the sunshine, or shining till you think it is silver, and the mist so wonderful all about it, changing each moment and drifting up and down, that you cannot tell what name to give the colors.

These mountains of yours here in the East are so quiet; mine are shouting all the time, with the pines and the rivers. The echoes are so loud in the valley that sometimes, when the wind is rising, we can hardly hear a man talk unless he raises his voice. There are four cataracts near where I live, and they all have different voices, just as people do; and one of them is happy -- a little white cataract -- and it falls where the sun shines earliest, and till night it is shining. But the others only get the sun now and then, and they are more noisy and cruel.

One of them is always in the shadow, and the water looks black. That is partly because the rocks all underneath it are black. It falls down twenty great ledges in a gorge with black sides, and a white mist dances all over it at every leap. I tell father the mist is the ghost of the waters.

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No man ever goes there; it is too cold. The chill strikes through one, and makes your heart feel as if you were dying. But all down the side of the mountain, toward the south and the west, the sun shines on the granite and draws long points of light out of it. Father tells me soldiers marching look that way when the sun strikes on their bayonets.

Those are the kind of mountains I mean, Mr. She was looking at me with her face transfigured, as if it, like the mountains she told me of, had been lying in shadow, and waiting for the dazzling dawn. I dreamt that the mountains had all been taken down, and that I stood on a plain to which there was no end. The sky was burning up, and the grass scorched brown from the heat, and it was twisting as if it were in pain. And animals, but no other person save myself, only wild things, were crouching and looking up at that sky. They could not run because there was no place to which to go.

And then, at the last, perhaps, some luckless fellow, stronger than the rest, will stand amid the ribs of the rotting earth and go mad. The woman's eyes were fixed on me, large and luminous. He would be afraid to be left alone like that with God. No one would want to be taken into God's secrets. And he would try to find a voice and would fail, because silence would have come again.

And then the light would go out --". Then she looked up suddenly at the sun shining through a rift in those reckless gray clouds, and put out one hand as if to get it full of the headlong rollicking breeze. It likes the sun and moon; they are all good friends; and it likes the people who live on it. Maybe it is they instead of the fire within who keep it warm; or maybe it is warm just from always going, as we are when we run. We are young, you and I, Mr. Grant, and Leroy, and your beautiful sister, and the world is young too! That afternoon the four of us sat at a table in the Casino together.

The Casino, as every one knows, is a place to amuse yourself. If you have a duty, a mission, or an aspiration, you do not take it there with you, it would be so obviously out of place; if poverty is ahead of you, you forget it; if you have brains, you hasten to conceal them; they would be a serious encumbrance.

There was a bubbling of conversation, a rustle and flutter such as there always is where there are many women. All the place was gay with flowers and with gowns as bright as the flowers. I remembered the apprehensions of my sister, and studied Leroy's wife to see how she fitted into this highly colored picture.

She was the only woman in the room who seemed to wear draperies. The jaunty slash and cut of fashionable attire were missing in the long brown folds of cloth that enveloped her figure.

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I felt certain that even from Jessica's standpoint she could not be called a guy. Picturesque she might be, past the point of convention, but she was not ridiculous. His wife smiled over at him. He thinks I am melancholy because I do not laugh. I got out of the way of it by being so much alone.

You only laugh to let some one else know you are pleased. When you are alone there is no use in laughing. It would be like explaining something to yourself. Leroy blushed, and I saw Jessica curl her lip as she noticed the blush. She laid her hand on Mrs. Brainard's arm. Indeed, now he says he will never again go out of sight of it. But you can go a long journey without doing that; for it lies on a plateau in the valley, and it can be seen from three different mountain passes.

Mother died there, and for that reason and others -- father has had a strange life -- he never wanted to go away. He brought a lady from Pennsylvania to teach me.

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She had wonderful learning, but she didn't make very much use of it. I thought if I had learning I would not waste it reading books. I would use it to -- to live with. Father had a library, but I never cared for it. He was forever at books too. Of course," she hastened to add, noticing the look of mortification deepen on her husband's face, "I like books very well if there is nothing better at hand.

But I always said to Mrs. Windsor -- it was she who taught me -- why read what other folk have been thinking when you can go out and think yourself? Of course one prefers one's own thoughts, just as one prefers one's own ranch, or one's own father. No one need fall back on books there. I'm afraid there must be such dreadful crowds of people.


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Of course I should try to feel that they were all like me, with just the same sort of fears, and that it was ridiculous for us to be afraid of each other, when at heart we all meant to be kind. Jessica fairly wrung her hands. I am afraid, my dear, that it will break your heart! Brainard, with what was meant to be a gentle jest, "no one can break my heart except Leroy.

I should not care enough about any one else, you know. The compliment was an exquisite one. I felt the blood creep to my own brain in a sort of vicarious rapture, and I avoided looking at Leroy lest he should dislike to have me see the happiness he must feel. The simplicity of the woman seemed to invigorate me as the cool air of her mountains might if it blew to me on some bright dawn, when I had come, fevered and sick of soul, from the city.

When we were alone, Jessica said to me: "That man has too much vanity, and he thinks it is sensitiveness. He is going to imagine that his wife makes him suffer. There's no one so brutally selfish as your sensitive man. He wants every one to live according to his ideas, or he immediately begins suffering. That friend of yours hasn't the courage of his convictions. He is going to be ashamed of the very qualities that made him love his wife.

There was a hop that night at the hotel, quite an unusual affair as to elegance, given in honor of a woman from New York, who wrote a novel a month. Brainard looked so happy that night when she came in the parlor, after the music had begun, that I felt a moisture gather in my eyes just because of the beauty of her joy, and the forced vivacity of the women about me seemed suddenly coarse and insincere. Some wonderful red stones, brilliant as rubies, glittered in among the diaphanous black driftings of her dress.

She asked me if the stones were not very pretty, and said she gathered them in one of her mountain river-beds. Father always sent to Denver for my finery. He was very particular about how I looked. You see, I was all he had --" She broke off, her voice faltering. It is a song of Sydney Lanier's. I think he was the greatest poet that ever lived in America, though not many agree with me.

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But he is my dear friend anyway, though he is dead, and I never saw him; and I want you to hear some of his words. I led her across to an open window. The dancers were whirling by us. The waltz was one of those melancholy ones which speak the spirit of the dance more eloquently than any merry melody can. The sound of the sea booming beyond in the darkness came to us, and long paths of light, now red, now green, stretched toward the distant light-house.

These were the lines I repeated: Inexorable, vapid, vague, and chill The drear sand levels drain my spirit low. With one poor word they tell me all they know; Whereat their stupid tongues, to tease my pain, Do drawl it o'er and o'er again. They hurt my heart with griefs I cannot name; Always the same -- the same.

But I got no further. I felt myself moved with a sort of passion which did not seem to come from within, but to be communicated to me from her. A certain unfamiliar happiness pricked through with pain thrilled me, and I heard her whispering, I swayed with her emotion. There was a long silence.

Then she said: "Father may be walking alone now by the black cataract. That is where he goes when he is sad. I can see how lonely he looks among those little twisted pines that grow from the rock. And he will be remembering all the evenings we walked there together, and all the things we said. Her eyes were still on the sea.

Did they bury him in the mountains? I wish I could have put him where he could have heard those four voices calling down the canyon. Jessica was dancing like a fairy with Leroy. They both saw us and smiled as we came in, and a moment later they joined us. I made my excuses and left my friends to Jessica's care. She was a sort of social tyrant wherever she was, and I knew one word from her would insure the popularity of our friends -- not that they needed the intervention of any one.

Leroy had been a sort of drawing-room pet since before he stopped wearing knickerbockers.