“For gossake,” I said. “All you mountain climbers are nuts. That’s for sure. You’re not interested in getting to the top. You’re just interested in getting to the top in a certain way. It’s about time we stopped fooling around with picks, ropes, camps and all the paraphernalia of the Gentlemen’s Club that sends suckers up the slopes every five years or so.”

“What are you getting at?”

“They invented the airplane in 1903, you know?”

“You mean fly over Mt. Everest!” He said it the way an English lord would say “Shoot a fox!” or an angler would say, “Use worms!”

“Yes,” I said, “fly over Mt. Everest and let someone down on the top. Why not?”

“He won’t live long. The fellow you let down, I mean.”