This was published 1 year ago
‘Who’s the bloke with him?’ Trekking in the shadow of mountaineering royalty
Simon Balderstone, 69, is a former journalist, author and adviser to PMs. He’s also a trekking guide, like his friend, mountaineer Peter Hillary, 68, who is chairman of the Himalayan Trust, founded by his famous father Edmund.
Simon Balderstone, right, and Peter Hillary, with his umbrella on a trek: “It was a joke, but it actually suited him: the perfect gentleman, perfectly attired.”
Simon: I was born exactly nine months after the first ascent of Everest by Ed Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, which was announced on the same day as the Queen’s coronation. I’ve always hoped my parents were inspired by the ascent, not the coronation.
I first met Pete in the 1980s, with a group of climbing and trekking friends. I didn’t really get to talk to him – he was surrounded by other people – but he definitely had an aura. In the climbing world, especially for my generation, the Hillary name is enormous. In later years I’d be trekking with him and I’d hear the Nepalese saying, “There’s Hillary Sahib! But who’s that bloke with him?” Following in his father’s footsteps must have been difficult at times, but he speaks of Ed with great pride and love. I know how much the legacy of his family – he now has two sons involved with the Trust – matters to him.
We really got to know each other in the mountains. In 1984 we were both on different Everest expeditions and my lot used to go to a pass and yell down to his lot: “Hey, turkey patrol!” And they’d yell out: “Hey, A-team!” Clearly, they had far better manners than we did.
‘He comes out of his tent in the morning and he’s just immaculate ... On the dirtiest, wettest day, Pete won’t have a speck on him.’
Simon Balderstone
Peter has summited Everest twice. The thing I find remarkable about his climbing is how at home he is. He made so many early trips to the Himalaya that he’s totally at one with the mountains. He’s not a macho climber. He’s very fit, but very understated. And then there’ll be a moment where he suddenly decides to get to the top of a hill in some ridiculously quick time and you just lose him; when I’ve tried to race him, I’ve always lost extremely badly.
Hillary, left, and Balderstone in 2018 at dawn atop Tiger Hill near Darjeeling, India, in the eastern Himalayas. In the background: the world’s third-highest mountain, Kanchenjunga (8586 metres).
Sometimes people see him – unfairly – as a little bit aloof, but I think that’s only because he’s so well-spoken, so impeccably dressed, so … together. And so clean! He comes out of his tent in the morning and he’s just immaculate: it reminds me of that sketch in [Monty Python and] the Holy Grail, when the peasants are collecting mud, and the king rides past. One says to the other, “There goes the King!” And the other one says, “How do you know he’s the King?” And the first one says, “He ain’t got shit all over him.” On the dirtiest, wettest day, Pete won’t have a speck on him. On one trek he actually carried an umbrella! It was a joke, but it actually suited him: the perfect gentleman, perfectly attired.
As a friend, Pete’s incredibly warm. I got cancer in 2016 and he really helped – just by talking and checking up on me. He’s thought about mortality a lot, as many climbers do. He had to face it horribly in his own life at 21 [when his mother Louise and younger sister Belinda died in a plane crash in Nepal in March 1975]. I’ve been several times with him up to the ridge above Kunde [in Nepal] to the shrines for Ed and Belinda and Louise. It was just such an unbelievable blow. But he took on the added responsibility in his family, and he’s discharged it amazingly ever since.
Despite all the charm, Pete does have a steely resolve. If he wants to do something, that’s it. Sometimes he’ll say, very politely, “I’d like to do it this way” and you may disagree. But you know who’s going to win.
Peter: Simon is a complex person. He can be marvellously funny – and the more you laugh, the more he enjoys it and the more outrageous the stories become. But he’s also got this ability to be very serious: to lock on to an issue like a terrier and not let go. That’s been a great benefit to the Australian Himalayan Foundation [of which Balderstone was founding chairman] because when you start an organisation you’ve generally got a few high-minded ideals, a few interested people, but no money and, actually, no real clue. Building something worthwhile takes a lot of stamina and grit and incredibly hard work, and Simon just got on with it. He’s a manual transmission type of guy: he can always drop it down another gear and bring up the revs. He always sees it through.
Balderstone and Hillary with Jamling Tenzing Norgay, son of mountaineer Tenzing Norgay, at Khumjung, Nepal, during celebrations for the 50th anniversary of the first school built by Edmund Hillary.
The happiest I’ve ever seen him is in the mountains when evening’s coming on, the clouds open up and there are the great Himalayan peaks, bathed in golden light. He walks around with this big, beaming smile – for the beauty of the scene and also the effect it’s having on everyone. He loves the camaraderie of those moments, and the high adventure and challenge of that environment.
But I’ve also seen him really at peace with the world just dropping down from his place to Little Manly beach for an early-morning coffee and a swim. He loves the big stuff and the small, incidental stuff: he sees quality wherever he goes.
“Even when he was extremely unwell, he carried on: going to Nepal, working with the foundation. I think that says so much about his generous spirit.”
Peter Hillary
His cancer scare – when it was primary cancer and then secondary – meant he was juggling a lot of really big metaphysical issues: who am I? What do I represent? We spoke pretty often. I felt really honoured that he included me in the group to share what was happening to him. There was a time where we were really bracing ourselves – obviously, a secondary melanoma is extremely serious. But he was on a special treatment regime and it’s been resoundingly successful. But even when he was extremely unwell, he carried on: going to Nepal, working with the foundation. I think that says so much about his generous spirit. Most people in that scenario would say, “I’ve got to look after number one right now,” and we would all go, “Of course you should do that.” But he was still out there, moving heaven and earth to try to help.
One of my fondest memories of Simon is from years ago. We were in Darjeeling at this very old, British Raj-era hotel called the Windamere. We were sharing a room and we’d come back after dinner and they’d put a fire on in the room. And we’d lie on our beds in the warmth of the fire, talking about the day’s events like two ancient gentlemen. It was so old-style, and so lovely.
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