Fausto De Stefani began scaling mountains over thirty years ago, and his approach has been the same: to take risks so as to understand the meaning of life, to learn more about human beings and how they are built, if that is something which can be more or less understood. He has already faced and overcome some of the most extreme challenges of nature, so what matters to him now is the quality of the experience. “I actually feel more like a naturalist than a mountain climber,” he explains. “I was born on the Italian Padana Plain, the flattest area, but I was attracted by the mountains and curious to see what was higher up.”

His curiosity surely grew during evenings spent around a campfire, listening to wonderful tales from his grandfather. That self-educated farmer had a life experience rich enough that he was able to make the young lads believe for years that he had traveled in a hot-air balloon to distant and mysterious lands that were iced over or covered by deserts, rivers, and forests. “When I was lucky enough to actually visit such places, I realized that they were just as he had described them, even though throughout his life my grandpa had only gone as far away as a bike’s ride from his hometown.”

Day after day this young man, who would eventually become one of the world’s greatest mountain climbers, acquired an appreciation for simple things. He felt the attraction to explore far away from the beaten path, and go against the current so as to discover and live things in his own way. Yet he never aspired to be a mountain guide: “It’s right to ask people to pay you for taking them to the summit, but I couldn’t do it. To be in the mountains was already payment (enough).”

In his element

With a knapsack on his back, he often begins to walk without any precise destination along the banks of the Po River, near Mantova, his native city. This quenches his thirst for adventure as much as reaching the summits at the 8,000-meter range (26,000 feet). “I feel drawn to always find a relationship with the elements of nature. Yesterday I sat hidden for four hours in order to catch a glimpse of a bird that is unique to Europe and Africa—the hoopoe and its offspring. I could have experienced the same emotional high by climbing some wall, but one has to diversify one’s interests, otherwise you run the risk, as in farming, of reducing yourself to only one crop. I have met great mountain climbers who should have had very satisfying memories of the experiences they lived. But, as they aged and could no longer do that one thing that was their only love, they ended up becoming bitter because they had not cultivated other interests.”

Notwithstanding our many questions, he seems almost reluctant to talk about his feats. It’s not out of modesty, but because for Fausto the goals have always been not about conquering a mountain but about understanding his own fears, contradictions and anxieties.

A defensive stance

Fausto shows an aversion to commercial expeditions, and his conscience and ideals have always guided him. He financed all his trips himself, wary of over-aggressive sponsors. Despite his belonging to the elite climbers who have scaled all 14 of the world’s highest peaks which measure over 8000 meters, Fausto cannot hide his indignation over what the “8,000” has become today: a recreational enterprise, a ruthless market that has set off negative competition among the Nepalese Sherpa to see who can carry more weight and who is fastest. A large beer company offered a several-thousand-dollar award to whoever beat the fastest climbing record on Everest, a prize that the local people are willing to die for (and six already have!) in order to improve the financial situation of their families.

Last year, Fausto secretly brought a group of Sherpa together to the foot of Mount Everest and encouraged them to collectively set strict guidelines for themselves in reaction to invasive tourism. Fausto has also defended of proper mountaineering in Afghanistan, becoming the first to open the climb of Mount Noshaq in 2003 through Mountain Wilderness, an environmental organization. His goal was to offer jobs for carrying baggage to men who, after the war with Russia, knew only how to shoot and were forced to be mercenaries.

To find oneself, that is the summit

Fausto De Stefani and others live by challenging the myths of mountain climbing that have been promoted by the extreme feats of supermen. “Mountain climbing holds other magical qualities. One of these is the capacity to make us forget the great effort and tribulation of the climb, leaving us with the noblest part of it. This is why we continue to go back,” he stated. “Another quality is that it helps us to meditate further on the authenticity of the life that we live, showing us the shells that we hide in to try to escape the real voices within us.”

Many ask him if it’s really necessary to go through so much effort just to understand oneself. “Some have followed different paths,” he responded. “I had to climb rock faces, to meet people, to face the silence. Why do I continue to go back to the mountain, even though many close friends have lost their lives there and are buried on its slopes? It’s not just for the challenge. I need space and time in a chaotic non-stop world. I have a thousand doubts and very few great convictions which I hold onto, but among them is that of wanting to give real meaning to my life.”

Indelible emotions

Behind him under the eaves of a wooden house, colored flags fly in the Himalayan winds entrusting the Buddhist prayers to the country breeze. The singing of the birds highlights a long silent pause. Fausto closes his eyes, searching for the most suitable words to share what’s in his heart, “The emotions I’ve experienced on the top of Everest, on the highest peaks, but also on more modest ones, will inevitably be erased by time, even if I have tried to imprint them in my mind and in my stories. The only ones that remain indelible through time and become more vivid as the years pass are the things that one has done for others less fortunate. This is why I can never separate the mountains from the environment, from the social reality that surrounds them.”

Our conversation now turns to the elementary and high school in Kirtipur on the outskirts of Katmandu, Nepal. Fausto has been devoting significant energy to these schools over the last few years. In his hands are photos of smiling Nepalese youth: there are 750 children and teens living and training in boarding schools. “This project has become my main goal. The old school had to be torn down and 180 students would have ended up on the streets.” But thanks to Fausto’s help and the numerous friends who have become involved, today the dream of re-opening the school has been realized.

The project had to be carried out respecting Nepalese culture. Workers and material had to come from the local community, as well as the project’s management. “They are the ones who had to make the decisions; I only collected the funds. This motivated them, and the Nepalese themselves now own the school, and this helps them to improve each year.” With pride, he commented on the photo, “I always imagined a beautiful school full of light, flowers, stupendous wild orchids, a joyful environment. Why should poor children have to live in an ugly environment, as often occurs? They have to feel good about their surroundings; it helps them feel they are on the right path!”

Fausto’s next step will be to offer the 750 youths job training as nature guides. “It’s a job that takes full advantage of the greatest resource they have in nature. It restores their dignity because it allows them to hold their heads up high while carrying the baggage of Westerners. I want them to feel proud while they explain the history of their nation and the natural flora and fauna to tourists. I made a promise to those children and I intend to keep it! It is something more important than all the mountains in the world.”

Finally Fausto smiles as he relaxes; he had been able to explain his dream to us. Without too many words, we shake hands in parting.

Paolo Crepaz