#114 Lisa Thompson - Finding Elevation
Lisa Thompson - is a mountaineer, cancer survivor, and sought-after speaker and coach. Growing up in the flat, humid farmlands of Illinois, she relied on adventure as a distraction, always knowing that she’d someday leave her hometown for something bigger. She soon became the first person in her extended family to graduate from college. She worked for twenty-five years as an engineer and in leadership roles at technology companies. Since she began climbing in 2008, Lisa has summited some of the most challenging mountains in the world, including K2 and Everest. She has completed the Seven Summits, reaching the top of the highest peak of each of the seven continents. Through her company, Alpine Athletics, and other platforms, Lisa shares her message of strength and resilience with corporate and private groups worldwide. She lives in Seattle with her golden retriever, Chevy, who loves the mountains almost as much as she does. Tune in as Lisa Thompson joins Bobby Marshall virtually and discuss cartel mountaineering, impacts to the environment, public lands, Mt. Everest, K2, world travels, culture, mountain life, and so much more.
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Lisa Thompson - Finding Elevation
Our guest for this episode is Lisa Thompson. She has summited some of the most dangerous mountains in the world, including being the second US woman to summit the infamous K2. Above all that and all of Lisa's accomplishments, one of the biggest ones that stood out in our conversation is her being a cancer survivor and not losing sight of what she wanted to achieve in her life while battling cancer. Lisa is a true inspiration. I enjoyed our conversation. I hope that you enjoy the episode.
Lisa, thank you for joining me. I appreciate you joining us. Where are you at?
I live in Seattle, but I'm in a little mountain town where my family lives in North Central Washington, which is called Winthrop. It's snowy and cold up here, which is fine with me. I love it.
We are getting that weather here in Colorado too. I'm at about 7,000 feet. The snow hasn't gone away, which is awesome. We need it. Congratulations on the newly published book. I appreciate you reaching out to us and sending me this copy. I had no idea what I was getting into when I started reading it, doing a little bit of homework on you, and then having this. I'm so glad that you reached out to us. Your story is amazing.
I encourage anybody to go and pick this up if you're into mountaineering and climbing 14ers or if you want to take it to that next level as you've done doing the Seven Summits, and not only that. You don't even have to be into mountaineering. What you went through in battling cancer while you were planning some of these trips is an inspiration in itself. It's keeping your laser focus on your goals while all that was happening. Where do we start with this? Where do you want to start?
Often people want to know how a girl who grew up in the Midwest in the middle of the US where it's flat got into climbing. If you're into Finding Elevation already or if you've read at least the beginning chapters, you know part of that story. I like to tell people that my entrance into climbing started out of spite. In my late twenties, I was the only woman at a pretty conservative healthcare company in Seattle. That's where I worked. The guys in my office were good. I have nothing against them at all.
In Seattle like in Colorado, part of the culture is climbing and being in the mountains. I didn't grow up that way at all, but when I got into the office, my peers would regularly go climbing on the weekends in the Cascade Mountains near Seattle. They would come back to the office on Monday morning and have these amazing stories about being on a rope team, crossing crevasses, and walking through icy rivers. I did not know or care about any of that stuff, but what I saw in those conversations was this tight-knit group of people who had a strong bond and a lot of camaraderies.
In the office, I always felt like the odd person out. I thought, "If I could start climbing, then maybe they would see me as capable, and maybe I would be a part of their group then." At the time, I didn't have the courage or the voice to raise my hand and say, "That sounds like so much fun. Can I come with you?" Instead, I got frustrated by it and decided I would go climbing on my own. I had no idea what that meant. That started with hikes in the Cascades. Eventually, the first big mountain I attempted and climbed was Mount Rainier, which is the highest point in Washington.
One of the things that I found interesting in this is you started this not at a young age. It's not that you're old by any means. I grew up in Colorado in the mountains. It was a family very outdoorsy. We didn't grow up with a lot of money. Our family vacations were camp trips, backpack trips, being outside and going to the river, or outdoor activities. Growing up here as well, I was playing in the mountains. I was integrated into that.
At 18 or 19, I did the opposite. I wanted to get as far away from that as possible. I moved to the beach, decided I wanted to surf, got a career in rock and roll, and did all this crazy stuff. I got to travel the world and see some amazing spots, but then full circle, I came right back here because I realized how much nature has always had some connection to me.
It was me having kids and deciding how I want them to grow up. It made me appreciate it at that point. Did you grow up going on camp trips or being outdoors at all? It seemed like from what I read from the book, you started this in your 30s or maybe right around 40. Most people are set in their ways. They're set in their career. They have their habits, and they don't get outside of those to find adventures. That's the average person.
Our vacations were probably similar to yours. We took a road trip and went to Chicago for the day. I remember going to a zoo in Indiana. We didn't have money to take elaborate vacations either. My parents are not very outdoorsy. They didn't do what your parents did and thought, "This would be a cheap family vacation if we went camping." The first time I slept in a tent was probably when I was in high school. It was, to be honest, a drunken outing with friends. Part of the deal was we slept in tents. That was how we got away from our parents. At that point in my life, I did not feel drawn to the mountains. I did, at a very young age, connect with nature.
It was a tumultuous family. That was where I found peace and solace. Growing up in Illinois, often that meant walking through corn fields, climbing up a big pine tree in my backyard, sitting there, and reading a book. I always felt that connection to nature, but I didn't have access to mountains when I was a kid. I didn't even start climbing and thinking about it until I was well into my twenties. At that point, I didn't make the connection like, "Nature is important to me. These mountains seem like an interesting place to hang out. Maybe I'll gain something from being there." It was more that I went to go climbing to prove people wrong.
It was out of spite. A lot of the experiences are what I read in the book, and you not being open enough to ask for help other than a family member that helped you out. Can you tell us how you started? A ton of people make this mistake. It's very uncomfortable to know nothing about something that you want to do and ask for help. We see it all the time in the fly fishing world and stuff like that. You have guys or women that go out and spend all this money on all this equipment. They're buying the wrong stuff, or they're not doing it right. It even comes down to mishandling fish the right way and stuff.
We have had a ton of guides on it. If you would come out of your comfort zone and ask sometimes or get a guide, a coach, or something like that, you will gain so much ground. It's so much better for the environment. It's a trickle-down effect, but I've done the same thing. It's embarrassing to ask somebody how to do something sometimes, especially when it's in that world, and you're surrounded by people that do it all the time. You can read all the books that you want, and there's some great information in that, but the real-life experience of having some of those things can go a long way.
For somebody to go into REI, you can spend thousands of dollars if you want, but it doesn't make you any better at mountain climbing. I love the fact that you put this in this book. Can we dive into how you started, some of the mistakes that you might have made, and some people that helped you out along the way to realize, "This is something that takes a little bit more attention. This pack is too heavy."
That was a big motivator, for sure. I started hiking easy hikes around Seattle. In Seattle, we very rarely can see Mount Rainier, even though it's 90 miles away. I forget the stat. It's in the book. We can see it from Seattle Lake 25 days a year or something ridiculous. It's a big event when it is out. We say, "The mountain is out." We have this whole phrase for when it happens. Eventually, I started seeing this mountain looming in the distance. I was like, "I have to check that out." I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew enough to realize that if I was going to attempt climbing Mount Rainier that I needed a guide. This is all in my investigation of climbing.
I also researched mountain climbing groups in the Seattle area. Unfortunately, for my matriculation, I did not join one early on in my career as a climber because, to your point, I would have learned a lot if I was with an organized and focused group of people whose intention was to introduce and teach people about the mountains. I took the hard route and decided I would hire a guide to climb Mount Rainier. I was not successful that first year. On paper, the reason that I didn't summit was because of the weather, but looking back, I'm not sure that I could have done it, to be honest.
I climbed with my team to over 11,000 feet and had this giant unwieldy purple backpack that probably weighed 45 pounds. The pack itself probably weighed eight pounds. Looking back on that now, it's so ridiculous. I had a full jar of peanut butter in there. I'm sure I had all these unnecessary things. I remember it being so hard. That motivated me. I felt like, "I have to figure this out. I'm seeing all these other people, mostly men, around me who are doing this. They're making it look easy and simple. What am I missing that I'm struggling and panting to get up this mountain?" That sparked my curiosity.
I wanted to prove people wrong and prove that I can do this thing that is so hard. I started working with a few mountain guides in the Seattle area and learning from them. It wasn't for me hard at that point to raise my hand because I knew that I knew nothing about what I was getting into. I also realized that this isn't something that you should enter without the right skill and knowledge.
Mountain climbing isn't something that you should enter into without the right kind of skill and knowledge.
At that point, it became easy for me to go to a professional and say, "I want to figure this out. My goal is to climb Mount Rainier. What do I need to do? How do I need to train?" Another big part of climbing is being physically prepared. I'm fortunate I have my company where I coach mountaineers, but back then, I knew zero about endurance training and nothing about what it took physically to climb the mountain. I became curious and I asked in the beginning.
In fly fishing, I'm sure it's the same. You now have a group of friends who share that same interest. I would intentionally seek out friends who knew a little bit more than me in the mountain. I have a great friend, Brigitte, who is a good rock climber. When we met, I knew more about alpine climbing. We would go out together, share, and teach each other. I intentionally found friends I could learn from. I was upfront about it. It wasn't like, "I'm being your friend so I can learn something from you." That was our friendship.
It's a give-and-take.
To your point about what I could have done better differently, I would have sought out an organized group that's focused on teaching people how to move safely and have fun in the mountains. That would have been a much less bumpy road for me to learn about mountaineering.
The other interesting thing too that caught me is that you dove into this full clip. You fell in love with it. It became something after summiting Mount Rainier. That was your first 14,400 feet. That's a huge feat by any mountaineering standards. We have a ton of them here in Colorado. It's a sought-after thing, and some are more dangerous than others. That goes across the world.
You fell in love with this so much that you wanted to take it to that next level. Everest and the Himalayas were in the scope of like, "This is what I'm training for. This is my new purpose." You turned it into, "I'm going to become a professional athlete or train like one and revolve my life around it." You had some drastic life changes that happened. You were dealing with a relationship that wasn't so healthy. You were also diagnosed with cancer during the midst of all of this. Your sight is being set on that.
It's super commendable that you didn't quit or use that as an excuse or a crutch. It's what got you through some of your cancer treatments and personal stuff that was happening in your life. More importantly, it's not that anything positive comes out of cancer, but I feel like you did gain something positive reading this. It was a wake-up moment, "Am I happy in my career? Am I happy in my life?"
Many people can get stuck in the day-to-day grind and rut. There's nothing wrong with that too. People can find success, gratitude, and accomplishment in a career as well. For you, that wasn't filling the cup. I want to hear more about that and do a deep dive into that a little bit more. I thought one of the interesting things was in the first couple of days, it sounded like, "I have to take this all in," but then it was pulling yourself up and being like, "I'm still planning on climbing Everest on this day."
It was a few months away from having your last treatment, waking up that morning, and not being able to walk to the mailbox, but this is still the goal or the bar. Where does that drive come from? How did that change your life? I have some close friends that are supreme athletes. Some of them are dealing with cancer too. I've had family members that have battled it. Everybody takes a different approach.
We should all take a different approach and find what works for us. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2015. I climbed three of the Seven Summits at that point. It's three of the highest points on each continent. Mountaineering was becoming part of my identity. Every year, I picked a different peak somewhere in the world. That was my goal.
I raised my life and my finances around preparing for that, learning about it, and hopefully successfully climbing it. It was part of who I was. In 2015, I felt like I was skilled enough and ready to start climbing the Himalayas. The Himalayas is a giant mountain range that bisects Asia. Most of the highest peaks in the world are there. In mountaineering, when we say high, we're usually talking about mountains that are over 26,000 feet or 8,000 meters. It was a big deal for me.
To put it in perspective, we have a ton of readers that might not live in the mountains or are interested in mountaineering but don't understand the scope of it. Here in Colorado, our highest peak is 14,800. You're talking about a mountain that's almost double the size in elevation. They're big mountains.
When your plane is taking off, and the pilot says, "We have reached our cruising altitude of 28,000 feet," it's that high. It was a big deal for me to think and believe that I was ready to take on one of those mountains. I chose an easy 8,000-meter peak. There's a spectrum of difficulty, challenge, and risk. Among 8,000-meter peaks, there are only fourteen of them in the whole world. I chose an easy one, which was 8,160 meters. It's called Manaslu in Nepal.
For me to pick a new mountain goal, especially at that point in my career, is like Christmas to me. I feel like I have this fun new project that I get to focus on, learn about, and train for. I get to know this mountain and prepare myself mentally and physically so that I'm ready for whatever that mountain is going to expect of me. I love that part of preparation.
That's where I was at the beginning of 2015. I had a routine mammogram before work one day. I was frustrated that I had this distraction going on in my life. At that point, I was focused on growing my career. I remember sitting in the room after the exam. The radiologist walked in, and because I had worked in healthcare, specifically in medical imaging, I knew that was not a standard protocol. That's not what had happened in the mammogram I had the year before. I knew something wasn't right.
She very delicately explained what she had seen in the mammogram and that there was concern that I had tumors in my left breast. Instantly, I knew I had cancer. That wasn't a diagnosis. It was a concern at that point, but there was this absolute certainty in my body and my mind that I had cancer. I broke down, as you probably should when you get that information. I remember wiping the tears from my eyes, going back to the office, and acting as if nothing happened.
Fast forward, climbing became my focal point to get me through cancer. I didn't want cancer to dictate my priorities, which is a little bit ridiculous to say now, looking back. I didn't want to give up who I was and my goal of climbing Manaslu that fall. All my doctors knew that was my objective. They were kind. They were on my team. They were helping me to reach that goal still.
I didn't want cancer to dictate my priorities. I didn't want to give up who I was, and I did not want to give up my goal.
There was nobody holding you back at that point. Were there family members or anything? In some of the crazy stuff that I've wanted to do in my life or I've had happen in my life, people have told me, "You can't do that. You need to be careful." Eighty percent of people will tell you that you can't do something before you can do it, and your mind even tells you that. You doubt yourself.
I'm sure some of your readers are like this. If you want to motivate me, tell me I can't do it. Tell me I shouldn't do it because that puts me into another gear where I'm going to make sure that you're wrong and that I can do it. That has softened a lot since those days, but it's still a big motivation for me. There were lots of people who were saying, "You should take it easy. That mountain is still going to be there. If you're not able to make it, it's going to be okay. You need to focus on being healthy." They were right.
I needed to at least try. When I left for Manaslu that year, it was the first time I traveled to Nepal. I could feel my body wasn't 100%. I didn't know what it was capable of. My doctors knew what I was doing. They had no points of reference or this body of study that says, "If you've had a mastectomy, you shouldn't climb to 8,000." Nobody knew. It's similar to that first attempt on Rainier. Avalanche risk turned us back on our way to the summit.
I remember being a little bit relieved that time being like, "I got what I came for on this climb." I was disappointed, but I also felt like I had pushed my body about as far as I needed to. When I got back to Seattle, I realized that I learned so much more on that mountain probably by not summiting than I would have if I had stood on the summit because it solidified for me how fragile life is and how we get one shot at this life. It's up to us to define what that life is going to look and be like.
I became very committed then to reprioritizing and ending that relationship that wasn't working. I quit my corporate job. I decided that I would climb Mount Everest, which, prior to that, wasn't on my radar. There are other mountains that were more interesting to me. After that diagnosis and beating cancer, I felt like, "Why wouldn't I climb the highest mountain in the world?" That's when I became focused on Everest.
You're hitting the point and explaining this in the book. Sometimes you gain much more out of failure than you realize than accomplishing. If it was easy to accomplish, then you might not appreciate it as much, but if you fail at something a couple of times, those are memories that stick in your head and other people's heads. It's weird how the human mind and body work sometimes. A lot of people dwell on failures for that very reason. It's like, "I didn't complete this or meet my goal," but I love how you explained in this how much you gain from it. It has been true in my life in a ton of different aspects.
Being fearful and failing at something are two of the best things that you can go through as a human. That builds resilience, perseverance, discipline, and much more. That's awesome. Let's rewind a little bit. I've been all over the world. I've never been on a mountaineering experience like this. When I have free time to be in the mountains or somewhere, I love the Northwest like Northern California and the Cascade Mountains. Alberta, BC, is amazing like Northern Montana. Those are the spots that I want to go but it's Colorado because it's home, and there's so much to do here.
Being fearful and failing at something are two of the best things that you can go through as a human to build resilience, perseverance, discipline, and more.
I don't think that I would ever get on a plane and fly to Nepal. What is that experience like? You're getting all that travel and then you're getting integrated into the culture. There are some traditions that happen before you start climbing these mountains like prayers, certain meals, and integrating with people that live at that elevation, which is crazy too. Can you explain some of those for our readers that haven't experienced it or are thinking about it, or maybe they want to experience it through your adventures?
Most people who have traveled to Nepal will say this. It is a very special place for me now, having been there 4 or 5 times. On that first trip, I had no idea what to expect. I watched YouTube videos and talked to other people. I remember landing at Kathmandu airport. It was utter chaos. I felt like I stood out because I'm American, blonde, and taller than most people. I'm not a tall person. I had all these giant duffel bags. I was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible because I didn't want to run into any other climbers who might ask me what I was climbing. I wasn't confident enough to say, "This is what I'm doing." On that first trip, I was very on edge. I was on guard.
Everything was unknown to me at that point. Gradually, I started to have conversations with Nepalese, whether they were Sherpa who are working in the mountains or Nepalese that resided in Kathmandu, soften to the people and the culture of that country, and learn so much about what's important to them, how they view the mountains, and how they're often sacred places. We don't go to the tip-top of some peaks because they're considered sacred.
That became an important support system for me. I felt like I had this whole culture of people who revered the mountains as much as I did and were there to help me be successful and support me. I'm fortunate to have many Nepalese friends who have come and stayed with me when they were in the US. I've learned so much about Buddhism, their beliefs, their families, their food, and how they think of the mountains. It's such a part of who I am.
It's almost like a religion. I was wondering about your connection. You talked about in the book and some other interviews that I've heard of yours having a relationship with the mountain when you're climbing it and having a feeling of being welcome or not welcome, whether it's the weather. I've experienced some of those things. If you're climbing at 11,500, you're at the tree line.
A thunderstorm or a microburst can roll in. Here in Colorado, it happens all the time. It's terrifying at that elevation. It's like, "Maybe there is a God," or that type of feeling like there's something bigger. Do you think that traveling and being immersed in those cultures made you appreciate that or have that feeling or perspective a little bit more?
Often I hear in Western cultures, "Conquer that mountain." That doesn't make sense to me because the mountain is always in charge and control. I am a little speck that is asking for safe passage on this mountain. You mentioned ceremonies. There's a beautiful ceremony that occurs before any climb in the Himalayas called the Puja. It's solemn in the beginning and very celebratory at the end. It's led by a lama. The intention is that anyone who is endeavoring to climb that particular peak sits at the base of that peak and asks the mountain for safe passage and a blessing to travel safely on that particular peak.
In Western cultures, they like to “conquer” the mountain. That doesn't make sense because the mountain is always in charge.
Those Puja ceremonies have become so important to me and the Nepalese as well. It's part of their culture to sit there solemnly. Sometimes it's emotional. Before I climbed K2, it was emotional to sit there at the base of this enormous and daunting mountain and think about how I'm endeavoring to time and this place that is potentially unsafe where other people have died. I'm asking and hoping that I have a different fate than them. I'm putting my trust in my team and my preparation, but I'm asking the mountain as well to allow me to travel safely. I have integrated that reverence that comes from the Sherpa people into how I view mountains.
The idea of conquering doesn't make sense to me. The idea of working together to achieve this goal does make sense to me. There are times, particularly on K2, when I felt like, "I don't know if this mountain wants me here." Every day, there's something that makes me stop and think about whether I'm doing the right thing and whether I should be here. I talk about in K2 in particular how as I was descending, it became a prayer. I thanked the mountain and said, "Please keep me safe." I kept repeating that phrase over and over again. Luckily, things went well on that mountain. For me, a big part of climbing and my ethic is to respect and work with the mountain.
This is where the Sherpas live. They hold it so sacred. That's a common thing. That connection is lost here in America. We treat a lot of our national parks like they're amusement spaces unless you've grown up and had some of those influences and that culture. Growing up in Colorado, my family homesteaded some of the areas that I live in and recreated in the same spots for generations. We were taught, "Leave it better than you found it."
I can't count how many times a week I pull into a campsite, and people have left trash in the fire pit for somebody else to burn. I don't think that they're doing it intentionally. If you grow up in an inner city, you have somebody that cleans up after you. There is a trash service. There are street sweepers. It's that philosophy. If you don't know any better or you don't know some of the etiquette or ethics behind outdoor stuff, I encourage you to get educated.
It also comes down to our state-affiliated game and fish or whoever it is, "This certain amount of sunscreen will pollute our rivers." It's such a fragile line in such a beautiful space. Simply how to use the restroom is uncomfortable to talk about, but there should be some manual or guide. That's the gap that we're trying to fill here. I'm sure that the Sherpas aren't throwing their waste on the side of the mountain or the trail. If they come across somebody else's something that they might have dropped, they're probably cleaning it up because it is a sacred area. Did you notice that?
I noticed both things happening in the mountains. Everest, for example, has become known as a place where there is still a lot of trash because there hasn't been an effort from the local government to enforce that trash should be carried down the mountain. In other mountains like Aconcagua, your trash is measured as you exit the mountain to make sure that it's comparable to the amount of time that you stayed there. Requirements and regulations by local governments make a huge difference.
Things are changing in Nepal. The people who live there and work in the mountains revere that space and want to protect it and want it to remain sacred, but not everyone who recreates there or travels there feels the same way. There haven't been strict guidelines. Many people have seen pictures of trash at camps on Mount Everest. It is getting better, for sure. It's up to each of us to do it.
I have this thing where I pick up micro-trash every time I'm on the trail. You would be surprised at things like hair clips. There are tons of corners of Clif Bars, snacks, and so many things that happen to fall out of a pocket, and people don't realize. It's up to all of us to do what little we can in the environments that we love to help keep them beautiful, clean, and safe for everyone who wants to go there. It saddens me when I see those pictures of Everest with trash everywhere.
It's up to all of us to do what little we can in the environments that we love to keep them beautiful, clean, and safe for everyone.
To take it even a step further, even if you live in a city like Seattle or Denver, you might not realize that the Mylar balloon that you bought for your kid's birthday that flew away is going to end up on a 14,000 peak. I find them all the time. It's insane. You will be 7 or 8 miles in the backcountry, and here's this beautiful Mylar balloon that you can see from a mile away.
It's stuck in a tree.
It goes even further than that. If a bear, an animal, or something gets into your trash can, that ends up in the ditch and then in a spillway that then ends up in a river somewhere. It can end up in nature even if it's in the inner city. It's collectively starting there. When you're out, pack your trash and that sort of thing. Going back to mountaineering and some of the things that you've done, I wanted to ask you about going to Nepal and some of these other countries like Pakistan, Australia, and all these places that you've been to have time and spend time accomplishing your goals.
Financially, you had all these life changes that happened in your life. You got a divorce. You quit your job. You're dealing with cancer at the same time. I'm sure that there are some medical bills and stuff like that involved. At the same time, you have to try to get to Nepal. That's not cheap. How did you construct that? That takes a ton of strategy from a financial standpoint.
It's like financial origami. I sat down so many spreadsheets and notebooks where I was like, "If I do this, sell this, quit my job on this date, and cash this out, how can I make this all come together?" It's important to note that. There's this belief that people who climb big mountains are very wealthy and have this disposable money. There's certainly an element of that, but that is not the case for many people, myself included.
I was making all these life decisions that impacted me financially. At the same time, I had this big goal to climb Mount Everest. I ended up borrowing $50,000. I remember calling my bank. I was sitting in a conference room in my office. I thought, "I'm going to tell them upfront what I want to do. They're going to say no. At least I will have explored that option, and I can move on to the next one."
I have a great relationship with my bank. They pulled the recording from the phone call. I blurred out my name and said, "I want to borrow $50,000 to climb Mount Everest." The woman on the other end who's now a friend of mine was like, "We will see what we can do." I was like, "Are you kidding me? I'm going to climb a mountain. I'm not going to send my kid to college. This is a frivolous thing." It ended up working out. Afterward, I spoke to my bank. It was a great relationship. I couldn't have done it without them. I could not climb without that financial support from them.
In hindsight, it worked out, but it was terrifying to think, "I'm ending my source of income, which is stable and predictable. I'm going to say goodbye to that. I am ending a relationship. There's no financial safety net there. I'm going to borrow an absurd amount of money to climb a mountain. I hope it all works out." There was a lot of faith and hope. In the end, it did, but it was scary at the time.
Going back to what you said about people telling you that you shouldn't do something, there were a lot of people who were like, "You should not quit your stable job. You've worked very hard for decades to get here." I knew that I was on the right path. That diversion from mainstream employment felt right to me. It felt right to me to be investing my focus and my energy in the mountains. It has worked out. I have no regrets, but at the time, it was terrifying.
It felt right to me to be investing my focus and energy in the mountains. I have no regrets, but at the same time, it was terrifying.
I can't imagine. My friend calls it burning the boat. You show up at a spot and burn the boat. Make sure that spot is someplace that you want to be. That's a great analogy. Here's a shout-out to Evan for always having that perspective. He has been a big influence in my life, "Should I start this thing?" He's like, "What are you doing? Burn the boats." He's an all-in-or-nothing type of guy. It's Manaslu, is it correct?
Manaslu is the first 8,000-meter peak that I attempted.
You attempted that. You didn't quite make it to the summit on that. The next mountain in that scope was Everest at that point. Manaslu was like training. You didn't get some of the stuff done there that you wanted to, like oxygen training and some of these other things. Some of these mountains are so high in elevation. Being at 11,5000 or 12,500 and having a pack on at that point, you start breathing hard. I can't imagine what it's like at 21,000 feet or something like that.
The air is so much thinner. Some of these climbs are oxygen-assisted to even make it happen. Does climbing Everest live up to the lore? It has become such a tourist thing. It is the pinnacle. It's a very Hollywood mountain. There has been a ton of movies made about it. Is it as traumatizing as you see? Are you passing dead people on the trail that are frozen and that whole lore of it?
It can be. I didn't see any dead people on Everest. People have asked me that question many times. There was a lot of snow the year I was there. That covered thankfully all the bodies that reside there. Everest will always have this attraction because it's the highest peak in the world. I see a microcosm of that in my life. If I'm meeting new friends at a dinner party or something, people will say, "You climbed Mount Everest. That's amazing." I'll be like, "I climbed this other mountain called K2. It's way harder." They're like, "Tell me about Everest. Did you see any dead people?"
It's the highest mountain. It's much more mainstream and well-known because it has been highlighted in many movies and books. For that reason, it's always going to be exciting. People always will endeavor to climb there. It's difficult. A big part of the difficulty is the lack of oxygen due to its elevation. It's always going to have this excitement around it. There are lots of other mountains that are way more difficult to climb that I don't have the skill to climb or to attempt even, but people will always be excited about it.
That brings me to the next question. What I want to spend most of the time on is your experience on K2 because you were the second woman in the US to climb the summit. Can you walk us through that experience from traveling in and some of the unnerving stuff? If you're into mountaineering, this is the pinnacle. This is the hardest thing that you're going to accomplish on our planet that we know of from a mountaineering standpoint. There's ice, snow, rock, and all these different variables, whether you have to go at a certain time to summit and have to be down by a certain time. Can you walk me through the whole process of that? I would love to hear about it.
K2 fell into my consciousness years before I even told anybody I wanted to climb it. It is the second-highest mountain in the world. It's 28,251. It's about 800 feet shorter than Mount Everest. It's on the border between Pakistan and China. It's a very remote part of the world. It is known for monster storms that come out of nowhere. The weather is unpredictable there. It is also much steeper than Mount Everest. From the second you leave base camp, it's straight up. It's remote.
On Everest, for example, there is a base camp. There's an emergency room tent that's manned by doctors who volunteer from all over the world. There are commercial helicopters on Everest that will pluck you off high on the mountain if you need help and take you to Kathmandu to a hospital. There's this solid support and infrastructure around climbing that mountain that doesn't exist in Pakistan. Part of the allure for some people, myself included, is to be in this remote place where you have to rely on yourself and your team to get up and down the mountain safely.
Part of the lure for some people is to be in this really remote place where you have to rely on yourself and your team to get up and down the mountain safely.
I felt as many people do, "If I could climb K2, that would feel legit." I hadn't yet climbed Everest. I wasn't ready to tell anyone that it was even on my radar. For years, I silently got more skills to climb different peaks to gain more experience with that goal in mind. When I started to tell people about K2, I was back to being doubted and told, "You shouldn't do something." There was a lot of that. There were a lot of people who said flat out, "You're crazy. You should not attempt this peak."
At the time, the death rate was about 1 in 4. Twenty-five percent of people who attempted didn't come back. That's not something to be taken lightly and something to be flippant about. It's facts. I recognized that was coming from a place of love and concern from the people who loved me but similar to when I was blowing up my life in 2016 by quitting my job, I knew I was on the right path. I knew I had a lot of work to do, but I knew that I could get ready to at least attempt this peak.
When I left Seattle in 2018, I was terrified. I knew I was fit and ready physically, emotionally, and mentally to climb that peak, but I didn't know if I could do it. I didn't know if I was reaching too far. I told myself I was going to climb as far as I can, not ever let my ambition outweigh my ability, and be very serious, "Can I do this? Should I continue?"
I traveled to Pakistan by myself as a Western woman. I've been there twice now. The first time, I remember I was in fight mode when I got off the plane, "Nobody is going to mess with me." I don't know what I expected. I probably should have done more research because the experience was the exact opposite. My experience with the people I've interacted with in Pakistan has been similar to the people I've interacted with in Nepal. Everyone has been gracious and welcoming. I've been treated like a guest in their country. All of what I had worked myself up for did not happen.
It's so weird how we judge books by their cover. You see all this stuff in the media. You grew up with it. Your parents were telling you this stuff. You get there sometimes, and you're like, "This is amazing."
It was great. I was always treated very respectfully. I recognize that I am a guest in their country. I would cover my head. I did my best to show respect, and I felt like I received respect in return. I remember sitting in the hotel in Islamabad. Those same feelings that I had the first time I went to Nepal were there. I didn't want anyone to know that I was attempting K2. I wanted them to think I was a regular tourist hangout in Islamabad.
There's this thing that happens. When you meet your team, you're sizing each other up. I was the only woman on the team. I had the experience, but I felt like, "How am I going to live up to these guys? Who am I to think that I can take on this huge, daunting, and dangerous mountain?" There was a whole lot of mental work that I had to do at the moment to get myself to believe that I was capable of climbing K2.
What are the anxiety levels at that point? Are you sleeping the night before you start this ascent? There's no way. I've had some big moments in my life, whether it has been career-wise or stuff that I've competed in. When that anxiety level is there, you're not getting sleep or anything like that.
The process of climbing any big mountain is important for people to know too. You don't go to base camp and then start climbing up the mountain because you have to take the time to force your body to acclimatize to the elevation. The way that we do that is to climb from base camp to camp one, spend a night there, go back to base camp for a few days to rest and recover, and then from there go to camp one and spend another night and then camp two, spend the night, and then back down to base camp.
Mountaineering: You don't just go to base camp and then start climbing up the mountain. You have to take the time to force your body to acclimatize to the elevation.
You're climbing the mountain twice almost.
On K2, we deviate from that a little bit because it's such a dangerous mountain. You want to reduce the amount of time you spend in that danger zone as much as possible, but it's still multiple iterations of the mountain.
You're on the mountain at this point. You're with your team. I'm sure that there's a bond that cannot be broken once you start the ascent and you've gone through some diversity and stuff like that. You start to find your team. I don't think I've gotten this far in the book yet, but I'm going to continue to read it too because I'm involved in it now. At this point, are you starting to build some camaraderie? Are you helping each other? Is the team accepting you now, being the only woman on the team?
There was one other woman on that team from Prague. It was so nice to have Clara there with me because we started to bond and support each other. We became a little group inside of this broader climbing team. Some of the men I got along with very well, and some I didn't. I felt like they had a different vibe and different intentions and were more into conquering the mountain than respecting it. That wasn't my ethic. That can make me spend a lot of energy and cycles like, "Why are you thinking about it that way?" I'm trying to control the situation.
I'm better, especially on a mountain, if I create this bubble around me and do my thing. Fortunately, I had Clara with me. We could create the support that we needed. She, unfortunately, had to turn around between camps 2 and 3. It was me, the rest of the team, and the Sherpa I was with climbing above that. I write about this a bit in the book. There's this natural human thing that happens when you meet people in a very competitive, high-stakes, and intense environment like that.
We all naturally assess, "Who's going to be the weak one here? Who's going to be the strong one? Who's going to be the person that I'm going to be annoyed by?" All of that happens. It's important to recognize that it's a normal part of forming, storming, and norming those things. It was very normal, but eventually, we started climbing K2. We had challenges not quite from the beginning, but the weather was as it always is a very big challenge that we had to deal with.
We had climbed up to camp three high on the mountain almost to the 26,000-foot point. We thought we had a solid weather window. When you leave base camp for your final summit rotation, you need about five days of good weather to get to the summit and back safely. According to the forecast and the models, we had that. When we got to camp three, there was this snowstorm that came and produced way more precipitation than we thought it would than it was forecasted.
There were probably six feet of snow by the time we got to camp three. That was five more than what was predicted. We have a big risk of avalanches. Because real estate is so sparse on K2, we were climbing in tandem with another team. They were a day ahead of us. The idea was they would go to camp two, and when they left camp two, we would arrive at camp two and take their tents. Everything would be set. It reduced the amount of infrastructure that we had to carry up the mountain and allowed us to work and share.
We're at camp three now at 25,000 feet. The storm is still blowing outside. Snow is still piling up outside of my tent. We were supposed to climb to camp four that day, but the team above us has even more snow than we do. They can't go to the summit because it's unsafe, which means we can't go to camp four because we would have no place to stay. There are so many parallels in climbing to leadership, teamwork, and resilience. There's a very big meeting outside of our tents at camp three to talk about what the right thing was to do, "Should we descend?"
For a long time, that was the decision. We should go down. The storm was not going to break anytime soon. We couldn't climb any higher because that team didn't feel they can move higher. It created a lot of dissent within the group. There were people who are very adamant about summiting or returning. As a team, we had to decide what the right thing was to do. You can imagine all these stubborn mountaineers standing in the snow at 25,000 feet and deciding.
We're getting mad about the situation. Things are rising. It was not a pretty moment standing at 25,000 feet and deciding what we should do as a team. Eventually, my tentmate and I were able to get a second weather forecast by contacting his wife in Belgium who contacted another meteorologist in a different country that sent us an updated forecast that said that the snowstorm should stop that night. With that new information, we felt as a team that the best thing to do is at least wait one more day at 25,000 feet and then assess what we could do and what the team above us could do in the morning.
Thankfully, that forecast was accurate. We waited. The snow consolidated. We could all then safely move up the mountain, but it was a very continuous point in the climb where things could have gone either way. On a mountain like K2, you don't descend to base camp, wait a couple of days, and think, "We're going to go back up again." You're spent at that point. You've been on the mountain for 4 or 6 weeks. You're running out of food. People have commitments back home. I feel very fortunate that as a team, we made the decision that we did. We all climbed, summited, and returned safely.
With all your training and the amount of time that you spent on some of these mountains and elevations, does your body ever get used to it? Are you in discomfort 90% of the time?
Both happened. I don't know if there's data to support this. Maybe you experienced this too on 14ers. You're carrying a heavy pack. You get to 11,000 feet. You're like, "I remember how hard this is." I feel like there's some muscle memory or process in your body that says, "I remember what this is like. Here's how I adapt to that." There's a certain point above 26,000 feet where your body is breaking down.
Your physiology starts to do amazing things like send blood and oxygen to the most important parts of your body, your brain, your heart, and your lungs, and not to your digestive tract, for example. Your body adapts, but you are still uncomfortable. It is still unbelievably challenging. I'm sitting in this chair nice and comfortable. If I were at 26,000 feet and had to walk across the room to get something or go to the bathroom, it's hard.
Even camping at 9,000 feet when you're in the backcountry or something in the fall, it feels like I've laid there for hours before. I'm contemplating whether I'm going to use the restroom or not or the tree.
At a time, it is so crucial to take the best care of yourself that you possibly can. You're constantly fighting. Your body wants to rest, be quiet, and preserve all the energy that it can. You also need to eat and drink. I remember on Denali being at 17,000 feet, having a handful of chocolate-covered peanuts or a delicious thing that I would eat a whole bowl of at sea level, thinking, "I'm going to eat these in the next twenty minutes," and forcing myself to eat them. It's a lot of the mind overcoming the body.
That was my next question. Do you think it's tougher physically or mentally? Is it both? Is it 50/50? I'm sure you're going to have those mental battles where you're talking yourself out of something, "Maybe I should descend. Today is not the day. What the hell am I doing?"
It's both. Above a certain point, it is all mental. Above a certain elevation, it is all mental on the mountain. On K2, in particular, both of those things were constantly at play for me. The crux of that mountain is a rocky section called the Black Pyramid. It's not beautiful rock climbing. It's more like a cobbled rock. The day I was there, it was slick with ice and melting snow. It was the hardest part of the mountain to climb for me. Physically, I was capable of doing it.
At sea level, there would have been no problem, but at 23,000 feet wearing crampons and a down suit, that meant that voice comes in your mind, "Can I do this?" I constantly told myself that I was strong. I didn't let that loop get started that would lead me to believe that I was not capable of doing it and instead focused on believing that I could. The mental is a huge thing.
What is the most gratifying part of that experience? Is it making the summit? For me sometimes, being at that elevation and taking in the view is a different perspective on the world. It's like, "I'm on top of this mountain. I can see 360 degrees." Especially in the Cascades, you get the marine layer that comes in. You're above the clouds sometimes. You can't explain that to somebody unless they have seen it firsthand. You can't put it in a picture.
We have had some incredible photographers on. You might know Scott Kranz, Max Djenohan, and some of the guys up in your area. They have both been on the show. They're awesome people. That's not a knock on any of their photography because they take some amazing photos but to experience it firsthand is different. It puts it in a bigger perspective. At that point with this storm and that sort of stuff, is there any view? Is it completely wideout? You're looking at a GPS, "Here's the elevation. We made it." What is that like?
We were above the clouds. We climbed above the clouds, which is another cool phenomenon that happens in the Cascades a lot. I don't know if it happens a lot in Colorado.
Not very often.
At the base of the mountain, it's raining. Maybe it's cloudy. You climb through that and look down. All you see is this pillow of clouds below you, which is a cool sight. There are these black peaks poking above the cloud layer. That's what the view from K2 was like. We could see for miles but we could not see all the way down to the base of the mountain because the clouds were obscuring that. It is a very satisfying feeling. Ed Viesturs is a famous mountaineer who said, "The summit is only halfway."
I have a pretty strict no-celebrating rule at the top especially of big mountains because there's so much to do to get back from the summit safely. Most climbing accidents happen when descending, not climbing up. My routine is to take a minute to show some gratitude to the mountain and to the people who have helped me get that far, check my gear, get a new oxygen bottle, take some photos, descend, and focus on the task ahead or the work still to do as opposed to celebrating and having a party on the summit. The party can happen later.
That's a misconception in anything, even if you're doing a 14er. You have to keep that perspective because the moment that you get comfortable or complacent, that's typically when something goes wrong. It's the same with riding a motorcycle or a mountain bike. The moment you get too comfortable, that's normally when bad stuff happens. Lisa, it's amazing. I'm glad that you're sharing your story with us and that you're sharing it in this book with so many people. I'm sure that we may have a reader out here that's dealing with a family member that may have cancer. I know some people firsthand that are going through that.
The moment you get comfortable, you get complacent, and that’s typically when something goes wrong.
You explained a lot of this in the book with your goals and some of that stuff keeping your perspective. What would be some words of wisdom that you would want to share with them about surviving cancer and then also completing some of your goals in mountaineering? I don't think anybody needs to run out and be like, "I have cancer. I'm going to go climb Everest. K2 is on the radar." It takes a special human to do that. For your everyday person, what are some things that helped you mentally get over that hump and stay focused on, "This is what I want to do?"
I have thought a lot about that question, and the answer has evolved a lot for me. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, what kept me going was one thing at a time. I had to watch myself from getting too spun up about things that were going to happen in the future, "What if this? What if that?" without having all the data and information in front of me. Waiting and trying to understand what your life is going to be like is heavy, overwhelming, and stifling.
I had to tell myself to do one more thing, "What is the one thing I'm going to do?" Sometimes it was, "I'm going to wash my hair." That was it. That was enough to keep me focused and motivated on taking care of myself. In hindsight, this is how my answer to that question changed. What I didn't do was give myself enough time to feel the emotion of what was happening in my life, my body, and around me.
I was very good at putting one foot in front of the other, "I'm going to climb this mountain. I'm going to check off the next thing on my to-do list." Eventually, that catches up with you. You can't keep ignoring those feelings and emotions forever. My advice now would be to take the time that you need to feel that, work through it, ask for help if you need it, and surround yourself with people who are positive and supportive and are on your team wanting to beat cancer as much as you do.
You can't keep ignoring your feelings and emotions forever. Take the time that you need to feel them and work through them, and ask for help.
Surrounding yourself with the right people no matter whether you're battling cancer or not is so key because if you're around somebody negative all the time or always have problems, that affects you personally as well. Some people might not realize it. Sometimes you can't help those people. The only people that can help them are themselves. I've gone through that in some relationships before. You're always trying to be there and help. In taking care of yourself, you will be more likely to take care of others at that point. I appreciate you sharing that and spending time with us. This has been awesome having you on. If you're ever in Colorado, I want to have you come into the studio.
That would be great.
I would love to spend some more time with you eventually. If you got a little bit more time, I got a few more questions. You published the book. It's available now. I feel honored I got a copy before most people. Thank you for sending that. Thanks for reaching out to us because you're the perfect guest for the show. I have enjoyed having you on. What do you have coming up next? You're dealing with a lot. You've summited the hardest mountains in the world or on our planet that we know of at this point. What's next for Lisa? I know that you're involved with helping others a lot. I wanted to get that story.
I'm glad you asked. I returned from Nepal climbing with a group of women. This whole idea came from some other female climbing friends. We were hanging out one night and were like, "We should create an all-women climbing group." That grew. I'm going to execute it. If you give me an idea, I'm not going to let go of it. I'm going to run it to the end.
A core group of us continue to work on that and think about what that would be like. It was important for us that if we said all-women, we wanted it to be all-women. We wanted the porters who help us carry gear to the base camp to be women. We wanted the team that cooks and take care of us at base camp to be all women. We wanted the rope fixing and all that stuff to be done by women.
I reached out to an amazing Sherpani or a female Sherpa who has an incredible and amazing in the mountains, @Pasang_Lhamu_Sherpa_Akita. I hardly knew her. On Instagram, I was like, "I'm putting together this all-women climbing group. Do you want to be our Sardar?" Sardar is the title for the lead Sherpa. She was like, "Yes." There were no questions, "What mountain are you going to climb?"
She helped us put together a group of local Nepalese women who rounded out our team. There were 2 climbers from the US and 2 climbers from Nepal. They're all very experienced women. We climbed a 20,000-foot mountain in Nepal called Cholatse in the fall. We raised money to support women's education. Sadly, there are certain parts where girls are often trafficked, and education is the way to prevent that from happening.
Sadly, there are certain places where girls are often trafficked. Education is one way to prevent that from happening.
We raised money for eighteen girls to go to high school for four years, which is a rewarding experience. The women who Pasang hired to be on our team aspire to learn more about working in the mountains. Maybe their husband had been a porter, and he became ill and she had to become the breadwinner, or the children had died. They're heartbreaking stories.
We wanted to give them this opportunity to climb, learn how to work in the mountains, and add that skill to what they could do. It was twofold, helping women who were in the adult part of their life and helping women who are still growing and in school. It was a full circle and a very rewarding climb. That is something that I will do more of because it changed the whole vibe of climbing to be doing it to support someone else and help other people learn.
That's amazing. Are you doing anything with rock climbing at that point like vertical-type stuff?
I'm not the most solid rock climber. I like it, but it's not my jam. There was some technical rock that we had to climb through but most of that mountain was glaciers.
It's interesting. Are you familiar with Chelsea Rude? She was an Olympic rock climber. We have had her on the show too. She started a very similar nonprofit. It's called She Sends. It's all based around rock climbing. We should connect you two ladies.
I would love that.
It's an all-women group. It's all-women belayers. The whole thing is run and organized by women. Maybe you can help each other out in cross-training or something. She's here in Colorado.
We're figuring out how to make it work. It was all new for us. We ended up not creating a nonprofit. We worked through another one. There's a lot to figure out when you start doing those fundraising climbs. I would love the connection.
She's an incredible person. I'll try to connect you. If a woman wanted to get involved, she's inspired and has heard some of these stories, or maybe she doesn't have the means to climb or something like that, what's the best way to contact you or reach out to this group of women to get involved?
Please reach out to me. I love hearing stories about all kinds of people who are wanting to climb the mountains or are curious or have questions. You can reach me through my website, which is LisaClimbs.com. I have the same Instagram handle as well. My company, through which I coach mountaineers, is called AlpineAthletics.net.
Finding Elevation: Fear and Courage on the World's Most Dangerous Mountain
Lisa, thank you so much again for your time. It has been an honor to have you on. I'm inspired by what you've accomplished. I'm sure that many more people are. Thank you. I enjoyed this. You're welcome back anytime. Let's do it again virtually. In-person would even be better if I'm in the Seattle area. I got a long list of people to hang out with. Maybe we could do it all together or something.
Add me to the list. That would be great. This was super fun for me. Your questions were great. I love digging into more of what it's like to climb. Thanks for that. Thanks for having me. It was fun.
Thank you. It's just a conversation. We don't script anything. It's two people hanging out. I found that's the best way. I've enjoyed hanging out with you. I try not to interview anybody. It's my greed and stuff that I genuinely want to know. It's pretty selfish. Hopefully, the readers got something out of it. Thank you everybody for reading. We will catch you on the next one. Lisa, one more time before we jump off, what's your website and Instagram? Follow Lisa. Where can they get the book? Is it available in bookstores? This is a must-read. I enjoyed it. I'm probably three-quarters of the way through it. I'm not going to stop reading it.
The book is Finding Elevation. You can order it on Amazon and Barnes & Noble and get it from your favorite independent bookstore, or you can go to my website LisaClimbs and order as well.
Will you sign this copy for me?
I would love to.
I got a bunch of signed books here in the studio, but I need to add this to my collection. I might have to send it back to you, or we will see you in person. Thanks again, Lisa. I enjoyed this. Have a good day.
You too.
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Important Links
Scott Kranz - Previous Episode
Max Djenohan - Previous Episode
@Pasang_Lhamu_Sherpa_Akita - Instagram
Chelsea Rude - Previous Episode
Instagram - Lisa Thompson