USD Magazine, Summer 1999

'WALK ON THE 'WILD SIDE It took Dennis Briscoe two weeks to climb the highest moun– tain in South America, yet once he reached the summit, he stayed only a few minutes. Strong winds, thin oxygen and searing sunlight could mean death on top of the mountain. "There is a satisfaction that comes with pushing yourself to your physical limits," Briscoe says. "But it's funny in a way because you're up there for five minutes and you have to turn around." The 54-year-old School of Business professor last year tackled Mt. Aconcagua, elevation 22,834 feet, in the Andes near the Argentina-Chile border. Using a path that allows climbers to make a relatively gradual ascent and avoid altitude sickness, Briscoe carried all his gear to 21,000 feet before tackling the day-long hike to the top. A veteran of 25 marathons, Briscoe began climbing mountains in an effort to spend more time with wife Georgia, a former USD law librarian who lives in Colorado, where she works for the University of Colorado-Boulder. They spend much of their summers together climbing peaks in the Rocky Mountains, and have climbed three of the so-called "Seven High Peaks" - Aconcagua, Kilimanjaro (19,340 feet) and Mt. El'brus (18,481 feet) in the Caucasus. Mountain climbers must be in supreme condition. While a few of the peaks have well-marked paths through fields of rock or snow (the hike up Mt. Kilimanjaro, for example, features a number of huts where climbers can stay overnight) most high peaks require climbers carry their tents, clothes and food through dangerous passes. High winds and plunging tempera– tures are a constant threat, and an unforseen storm can mean death. The sport's unpredictability was grimly illustrated for Briscoe when his hiking party stumbled across a body at the base of a Mt. Aconcagua glacier. "There's risk in this," says Briscoe, a USD professor for 21 years. "People die on these mountains every year. You have to be prepared. You have to have high-altitude gear, good parkas, low-temperature sleeping bags, and special tents - things like that. Every ounce makes a difference at 21,000 feet." Briscoe says climbing a 21,000-foot peak is like running three or four marathons back-to-back, so it's easy to understand his half-joking lament: "Sometimes I would just as soon walk around a mountain as climb it." He most likely will not strive for all seven of the high peaks - a trek up Mt. Everest can be costly and deadly - but he has contemplated North America's highest peak, Mt. Whitney. His wife is preparing to climb it soon, but Briscoe may wait until retirement before tackling such serious climbs. "I love the outdoors, the mountains, the foreign experi– ence," says Briscoe. "And there is a satisfaction in saying you've done something not a lot of people in the world have done."

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