South Shore Press reporter Robert Chartuk is halfway around the world, having crossed the Equator to file this report:
Dispatch, Anawhata, New Zealand—He was known as a recluse, retreating to a faraway place after winning fame as the first to conquer the world’s highest mountain.
I am on the road to Sir Edmund Hillary’s retreat at Anawhata in the Waitākere mountain range. The one-lane path snakes for an hour through the desolate rainforest, perfect if your desire is to withdraw from the world. I take in the view that drew him to this spectacular place: harsh rock formations softened by a lush valley rolling down to the blue Tasman Sea. Fine sand beaches, tinged black from lava rock, stretch for miles and not a trace of human existence can be seen.
Growing up in Auckland as an unassuming beekeeper, Hillary was drawn to Anawhata’s remote and wild landscape, which perfectly suited his love of adventure and the outdoors. He joined the Royal New Zealand Air Force during World War II, serving as a navigator. A severe burn injury cut his military career short, and he returned home, throwing himself into mountaineering and developing the skills that would later make him a legend by being the first to reach the summit of Mt. Everest.
His taste for exploration was ignited at 16 when he went on a school trip to Mt. Ruapehu, an active volcano in the country’s North Island. It was here that he first saw snow. By the time the war ended, Hillary had become a dedicated mountaineer. He spent the postwar years refining his technique, practicing rock climbing and ice-pick work. In 1951, he made his first trip to the Himalayas, setting the stage for his most famous achievement.
Hillary was part of an expedition sponsored by the British Government and the Royal Geographical Society. The 1953 British Mount Everest expedition was led by Colonel John Hunt, who carefully selected climbers for different roles. Hillary’s exceptional endurance and technical ability earned him a key place on the team, but there was no guarantee he would be among those chosen for the final summit push.
After a previous climbing pair turned back from exhaustion, Hunt selected Hillary and Sherpa guide Tenzing Norgay for the next attempt. On May 29, 1953, they became the first confirmed climbers to stand atop Mount Everest. National Geographic Magazine later described their brief but triumphant moment:
“The men shook hands, as Hillary later wrote, ‘in good Anglo-Saxon fashion,’ but then Tenzing clasped his partner in his arms and pounded him on the back. The pair spent only 15 minutes on top. ‘Inevitably, my thoughts turned to Mallory and Irvine,’ Hillary wrote, referring to the two British climbers who had vanished high on Everest’s Northeast Ridge 29 years earlier. ‘With little hope, I looked around for some sign that they had reached the summit but could see nothing.’”
Descending the mountain, the first climber they encountered was fellow New Zealander George Lowe. Hillary greeted him with what would become one of the most famous lines in mountaineering history: “Well, George, we knocked the bastard off!”
Throughout his life, Hillary portrayed himself as an ordinary man who had greatness thrust upon him. He did not anticipate the acclaim that would follow his historic ascent. He was knighted and appointed New Zealand’s high commissioner to India, Nepal, and Bangladesh. He won numerous honors over the years and appears on his country’s five-dollar banknote. A treacherous part of Everest, Hillary’s Step, is named for him.
Yet it was not accolades but his lifelong dedication to the Sherpa people that defined his legacy. Through the Himalayan Trust, he helped build schools, hospitals, and airfields in Nepal, work that continued until he died in 2008. To mark the 50th anniversary of his Everest climb, he was made an honorary citizen of Nepal—an honor he cherished as much as any knighthood.
Even as he traveled the world, Hillary remained drawn to New Zealand’s untamed landscapes, particularly Anawhata. Here, he found solace away from public life. His retreat was not just an escape but a return—to the kind of wilderness that had shaped him long before Everest made him a legend.