Fate? Everest Summit—May 15, 2025—and Profound Love

Surely summiting Everest is the ultimate swashbuckling story to share with interested kids and escapade-relishing adults alike. As dramatic as its anecdotes are though, in my case the enterprise was principally a love story (albeit to the dismay of those who would rather avoid kissing books).

Primarily, mine is a real-life tale of a son's due and simultaneously overdue love for his late father.

As I previously wrote here, I never experienced the pleasure of ascending a great mountain with my adventurous father before he passed—although we did hike together a few times in California. Instead, I am taking his ashes to spread on each of the Seven Summits I climb.

He made it to Everest Base Camp (EBC) in his 60s, but not the summit.

In an improbable twist of fate/act of providence/uncanny coincidence/wink by God/stroke of luck, I not only fortuitously met Sam and Emma Schwerin on the journey to reconcile my life’s regret and pay tribute to my own dad, but I also summitted Everest and spread his ashes up there simultaneously when this impressive father-daughter duo made history and Emma set two world records.

It was an honor to get to know, spend time with, and respect both of these Schwerins in our mutual undertaking over the past two months—from the trek to Everest Base Camp (EBC) to climbing and summitting on the same momentous day.

At 17, Emma Schwerin became the youngest woman ever to achieve all Seven Summits, and the youngest American woman to summit Everest—climbing each mountain alongside her devoted father Sam. Especially admirably—and unlike me—Emma did not wait until it was too late to do what matters most. Hearty congratulations and cheers to both of them!

When I *finally* got down to EBC after a slower descent than I had hoped for/planned on (fun videos, harrowing pictures, and stories are still forthcoming, stay tuned…), as you can see below Sam, Emma, and I split a helicopter to return to Kathmandu together and avoid the arduous and extended trek to Lukla as we each recovered from the protracted exertion and resulting minor ailments.

Second, this one is a sappy story of the love a grateful man has for his selfless wife, too.

In an endeavor to officially seal our romance after a few good rounds of break-ups and make-ups, my wife and I eloped in the Czech Republic years before I ever thought about let alone begun climbing mountains. She certainly did not sign up to marry someone with this unconventional and perilous hobby. My idea to take up mountaineering in homage to my father was sprung on her long after she said her vows to someone who was admittedly “indoorsy” with an otherwise sensible profession teaching at Case Western Reserve University School of Law.

This picture shows the interior of the church where we had our ceremony in Prague.

On our wedding day, she presented a ring upon which she had commissioned a jeweler in the city to engrave what she understood as only a figurative (not literal) Czech saying: láska hory přenáší. That inscribed message roughly translates to: love carries over mountains. But, again, back then she had no idea that over mountains is precisely where I would one day go.

That same unknowingly presaging wedding band has since gotten scraped, dented, scratched, caught between too many rocks and hard places, and permanently scarred in something of an analogy to our actual relationship—marriage is no cake walk when it contains two strong-willed, independent, and uncompromising parties, yet ours has despite the odds managed to endure and remain intact thus far.

I could not do any of this without her. When I initially announced my crazy plan to climb Everest, her response was instant and unambiguous support. She bought a custom oil painting for my office depicting Everest’s summit approach as a visual inspiration to keep my eyes on the goal. She tolerates long hours, early mornings, and late nights of my training regimen, extended absences while I explore high-altitude peaks all over the world and conduct business on behalf of our organization, and celebrates my accomplishments in both realms.

When I suffered a near-death experience in Russia, she resourcefully rescued me from a filthy Soviet-era hospital despite poor medical care that left me in serious trouble. I owe her my life at the very least.

Throughout my recent almost-two-month stay in Nepal, she was promoted from Chief Operating Officer at The Buckeye Institute to acting/interim CEO, which allowed me to focus entirely on climbing with confidence that Buckeye was in steady and capable hands.

She served as the conduit of information to friends, family, and strangers—and too much additional work always falls to her at the office and at home when I am on these mountains. She handles innumerable situations from complex and intractable to simple and frustrating with aplomb, focus, and competence.

It is not only true that her love has carried over more mountains than it should have had to, but also that love is what propelled me to the top (to get dad’s ashes to where they belong) and guided me down and then back to where I belong (see my post about her sweet cairn birthday gift here).

Today marks exactly one week from the auspicious day I summitted Everest, about which I will report more details soon.

I have made it to Miami and reunited with the heroic lady I’m fortunate to love. We will stay in South Florida for the long holiday weekend before returning to work on Tuesday. I feel exponentially healthier and better being here at sea level. The full relief provided by the thick and humid air has already quickly served as natural salve to repair my irritated lungs from the rough month-long Khumbu cough, heal my lingering sinus infection, and fix my otherwise sun-and-wind-damaged eyeballs that were impairing my vision.

Finally, this fetching outfit below has come full circle as I wore it on the plane from Columbus, Ohio, to Kathmandu—where I met other fellow climbers and enjoyed a night on the town, as you can see by clicking this link. The yellow chinos earned some derision from my new friends previously, but are thoroughly enjoying the ocean breeze—only now they are properly accented by the meaningful protective cords around my neck that I will cherish as palpable symbols representing the profound love that led me up to Everest’s summit and home again. BB1 out.