Some people climb mountains. And some people are mountains, steady, generous, full of life, and quietly shaping the landscape around them.
Jim Whittaker was both.
When I heard of Jim’s passing at the age of 97, I felt that familiar mix of grief and gratitude, the kind that comes when someone has touched your life so deeply that their presence never quite leaves, even after they’re gone.
Most people will remember Jim as the first American to summit Mount Everest in 1963, a feat that placed him alongside legends like Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay. They’ll remember the headlines, the history, the photographs etched into the story of human achievement.
But I remember the man who bellowed a joyful “moose call” across the mountains… The man who made space for a blind kid to dream bigger than anyone expected… The man who, without fanfare, became part of my life, and my love story.
The Path That Led Me to Jim
My journey to Jim began, as many great journeys do, with an unexpected invitation.
After my family moved from Silverton, Oregon to Snohomish, Washington, a high school cross country coach noticed me walking the halls with my long white cane. I was a wrestler, tall, thin, competitive. He asked if I wanted to try cross country.
I said yes.
I ran with a teammate guiding me in practice. At meets, the girls’ cross country coach, an elite runner, would run beside me, calling out the terrain: “Downhill in 20 yards… veer right 10 degrees…”
In the winter, we skied.
And I fell in love with it.
That love led me to the Sons of Norway Ski for Light program, to weekends at Snoqualmie Pass, and eventually to the international Ski For Light competition in Traverse City, Michigan, where I earned a silver medal in the totally blind division.
I was moving through the world, fast, determined, and discovering what was possible.
Then came the call that would change everything.
Project Pelion, and Meeting Jim
In 1980, during the United Nations’ International Year of Disabled Persons, mountaineer Phil Bartow invited me to join a multi-disability team attempting to climb Mount Rainier. The expedition was called Project Pelion, later documented in HBO’s To Climb a Mountain.
We began training in Aspen, Colorado.
And that’s where I met Jim Whittaker and his extraordinary wife, Dianne Roberts.
Jim was already a legend, but you wouldn’t know it from how he showed up.
He was vibrant. Playful. Fully alive.
He cracked jokes like, “This is just like a broken drum, you just can’t beat it!” He’d suddenly unleash his signature “moose call,” echoing across the mountains like something wild and joyful and untamed.
He didn’t just lead. He lifted. He invited.
He made us feel like we belonged on that mountain.
The Climb That Changed My Life
After a tragic icefall temporarily closed Mount Rainier, we debated shifting to Mount Olympus. But when Rainier reopened, we voted to continue.
I was placed on Jim’s rope team, alongside Chuck O’Brien, a Vietnam-era veteran amputee.
Together, we climbed.
We were the first team to reach the summit.
And in that moment, I became the first blind person to stand on top of Mount Rainier.
Jim helped make that possible.
Not by carrying me, but by believing I belonged there.
Years later, Jim would say that leading climbers with disabilities up Rainier was one of his proudest achievements. For us, he said, “that was Mount Everest.”
He understood something profound: Greatness isn’t just about what you conquer. It’s about who you bring with you.
A Life Intertwined
After the climb, we traveled to Washington, D.C., for a Rose Garden ceremony with President Reagan. What followed still feels like something out of a dream.
Dianne asked if I had lunch plans.
I didn’t.
So she invited me to join her and Jim at the home of Ted Kennedy.
Lunch was elegant, generous, surreal. Jim and Senator Kennedy, who had deep ties, including climbs with the Kennedy family, shared stories and even went for a swim afterward.
Later, I received a handwritten thank-you note from Senator Kennedy, along with a vinyl record of his Democratic National Convention speech.
That was Jim’s world.
And somehow, he opened it to me.
A Love Story, Too
After returning to Seattle from DC Jim and Dianne met my girlfriend, Roslyn, Ros.
Their home on Beach Drive in West Seattle sat just down the hill from her parents’ house.
Ros is African-American. I’m white. And in those early days, our relationship faced some understandable challenges.
But Jim and Dianne? They simply welcomed us.
They gave us a key to their guest house.
So when I took the Greyhound bus from Everett to Seattle, Ros and I had a peaceful, beautiful place to be together.
Their generosity didn’t just support us, it sheltered us.
It helped nurture a love that has now lasted more than 40 years.
The Everyday Magic of Jim
Years later, when Ros and I were newly living together in a small Capitol Hill apartment, Jim and Dianne invited us to dinner.
Their guest? Frank Herbert, the author of Dune!
Our car had broken down, no problem.
Jim and Frank Herbert drove over to pick us up.
That was Jim.
No ego. No distance. Just connection.
We celebrated birthdays with him and his twin brother Lou at the Space Needle. We stayed in touch. We remained part of each other’s lives.
The Legacy He Leaves
The world will remember Jim Whittaker as a pioneer of mountaineering, a man who stood atop Everest, who climbed Rainier more than 100 times, who believed that “when you live on the edge, you can see a little farther.”
But I will remember something just as powerful.
Jim lived on the edge of possibility, for other people.
He expanded what we believed we could do. He turned access into action. He made inclusion feel natural, joyful, and real.
He didn’t just climb mountains.
He built bridges, to opportunity, to belonging, to love.
Jim Whittaker and Dianne Roberts are woven into the fabric of my life. Into my story. Into my family.
And as I reflect on his life, I keep coming back to this:
Some people leave footprints on summits. Jim left them in hearts.
And those… don’t melt with the snow.
” Inclusion isn’t just the right thing to do — it’s a strategic advantage. “
Dr. Kirk Adams, Ph.D.
Advocate, Leader and Keynote Speaker on Disability Inclusion & Leadership
Leading the Way to Accessible Innovation
Institute for Sustainable Diversity and Inclusion (ISDI)
Executive Director
Strengthening individual and organizational capability for creating diverse, inclusive and equitable workplaces.
Innovative Impact, LLC Consulting
Managing Director
Impactful Workforce Inclusion Starts Here
American Foundation for the Blind
Immediate Past President & CEO
To create a world of no limits for people who are blind or visually impaired.
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