Touching the Sky
11.34pm. The snow pebbles sliding gently down the mountain almost sounded like water flowing through a forest brook. For a brief moment I was back on the beach like many other spring breakers, relaxing and listening to the water. Suddenly my peaceful image was broken by the harsh sound of crampons (boots with spikes on the bottom) digging into hard snow; I opened my eyes and forced myself 17,000 feet back to reality. It was almost midnight. I was standing on a steep, dark white glacier, my ice axe planted in the ground for support. Through shadowy gaps in the thick cumulus clouds below I stared at the vast plains of Ecuador and farther, the faint lights of a sleeping Quito. On my left, another 2,500 vertical feet above and eerily lit by the light-blue equatorial moon, the snowcapped summit of Mt. Cotopaxi. The sky was clear tonight and Chris Warner, the legendary mountaineer of Everest and K2 fame who founded EarthTreks and personally led our expedition, announced that the weather was perfect for the climb.
I looked down the icy path that zigzagged up the mountain; a dozen bright spots snaked up slowly like a lost constellation reaching for the dense bed of stars overhead. They were the headlamps of the ten other members of my Wharton Leadership Venture group. A lot had happened over the five days leading to today, and I silently thanked my team for making the choices that kept us together. Extreme situations call for a different form of teamwork and dedication; the last few days convinced me that for a team to maximize its success it’s not enough that members can articulate, understand, and fully buy into the team goal; they must subjugate themselves to the team’s goal over their own and incorporate the goal in everything they do.
My thoughts wandered to our goal: “100% Summit and Back”. Just five days ago the eleven of us met in Quito and decided this would be our objective for the week. It was a self-selected group ripe with marathon runners, triathletes, and experienced mountain climbers (and a few like me, who were new to the very idea of physical exertion and hoped that the weeks of running up the stairs of Franklin Field and the Claridge were worth something). Though the goal was easy to agree on (since everyone’s personal goal was to reach the summit), we discussed its validity when Chris pointed out that no Wharton group had ever placed 100% of its members on the summit. Is it reasonable to have a goal which is seemingly unattainable? How will different individuals react to this?
The next day’s practice climb took place on Pichincha, a nearby mountain of 15,500 feet. In the spirit of our goal we decided to work as a team; our “leaders of the day” (each day a different person was assigned to be leader) grouped us into sub-teams of three and required that we stay with our sub-team. The strategy was different from that of past Wharton teams which traditionally used this climb to learn team members’ comfortable pace and categorize them as fast, medium, or slow. Though Pichincha was almost 4,000 feet lower than Cotopaxi and didn’t require us to tread through ice, it had its own perils in the form of precarious terrain and steep inclines. Grey volcanic ash littered the unstable path and a thick shroud of fog frequently blocked our view of the rolling green and brown valley below. At times the clouds would part, revealing the majestic Mt. Cotopaxi in
the distance towering over the countryside. The 8-hour hike was tiring, but I was relieved that we were together and working as a team; on several occasions I saw the more experienced climbers helping their less experienced companions navigate a precipice or uneven terrain. We sent periodic reminders to each other to take a sip from our Camelbak water pouches; this not only kept us hydrated, but on Cotopaxi would prevent the water tube from freezing. At times the leaders stayed back and made sure the entire team safely crossed a dangerous area before moving on. I began to realize there were two ways of interpreting our goal; in simple terms it could be translated into each of us committing to do our best to reach the summit, thus achieving 100%. But another interpretation of our goal was that each person’s duty was to make sure that everyone else summitted. I didn’t realize at the time that our collaborative nature this day set a foundation of trust and camaraderie in the team, something that would become invaluable in the days to come.1.30am. Two hours into climbing Cotopaxi and I was exhausted from
the effects of the high altitude; at 18,000 feet the air is almost 25% thinner than at sea level, forcing short frequent breaths. In Quito (10,000 feet) climbing up a single flight of stairs left a person short of breath; I wondered what it would be like at the summit, almost twice as high. I sat by a large serac (ice pillar formed by a moving glacier) next to my rope team.Possibly the most important (and tense) decision of the entire trip took place just two days ago in the base camp when the group decided how to populate the three rope teams. A rope team connected individuals at the waist with a thick rope to prevent them from falling into a crevasse or cliff. The simplest, almost Darwinist method was by pace; categorize people as fast, medium, or slow and create a team for each. Though this strategy was most often employed by past Wharto
n groups, it would abandon the slow team and thus, go against our goal. The alternative: balance each rope team with a fast, medium, and slow person. The very idea prompted a heated debate, and the clash between individual goals and the group’s immediately emerged. For example, faster members were afraid that slower people on their team would increase the risk of failure. Indeed this was our group’s crucible moment as we realized that achieving our group’s goal would require every one of us to sacrifice for the team. Faster members would not make the summit as fast as they wanted; slower people would have to push themselves harder to keep up. With some hesitation, we chose the balanced strategy.
5.55am. The first rays of morning broke the night sky in a burst of yellow, pink, and purple, illuminating our final ascent to the summit. The lack of oxygen was giving me hallucinations in the form of bright blue and green spots that occasionally danced in front of me. A fierce freezing wind clung to my down jacket covering it with small icicles. I looked back and saw my entire group behind me. We made it; for the first time an entire Wharton group reached the summit of Cotopaxi.The next day. As I recovered over a warm tea made from cocaine leaves in the comfortable, heated lodge at the mountain’s foot, I pondered our intense journey. Our team responded to challenges uniquely, but why? What made us sacrifice our egos for people we met just a week ago? How did we make the leap from thinking about the self to thinking about the group? In my observation, it was the fact that throughout the trip we lived and breathed our goal in everything we did. On Pichincha we stayed together. When hiking up to base camp we made sure no one walked alone. Even during a city tour of Quito we used sub-teams to prevent people from losing the group.
This lesson is invaluable as extreme situations in business call for a similar dynamic. A business needs to have a clear, well-defined goal that every member of the management team buys into and incorporates into their daily duties. Furthermore, the team will only truly be successful if members put the collective goal before their own. However, reaching this level of cohesion is difficult and can only happen if team members build trust, and for that the leader must epitomize the team goal from day one and set an example for others. The team should also be careful in choosing, articulating, and quantifying its goal to ensure that
it reflects the values of every person in the group. The more I reflect on this experience, the more I realize that reaching the summit was never the point. Years from now I may forget the sight of the cloud-covered crater from the top, the sound of distant thunder from below, and the icy touch of nature’s breath, perpetual reminder that in the end we were there only because of her kindness. But I won’t forget the people there with me and the journey that brought us there. Looking back, I realize the mountain is but a metaphor for life’s challenges and each of us can touch the sky in our own lives.
