DENVER--Climbing in the Himalayas can be the ultimate test of a person's spirit.

The oxygen content in the air is less than half of that in Colorado. Sometimes the elements are against you when fierce, bitterly numbing winds lash out and keep you tent-bound for days. Traveling in such conditions, your body does not react the way it should.

In 2004, renowned mountaineer Erik Weihenmayer led a group of six Tibetan teenagers into the heart of the Himalayas. Their destination was the summit of 23,000-foot- tall Lhakpa Ri. The three-week journey was both a physical and emotional ordeal for all involved. And despite days of guiding the teens, the summit never would come into sight for either the students nor Weihenmayer.

Erik Weihenmayer leads a group of Global Explorer students during a week-long trip to the Peruvian Andes last year. Global Explorer is a Fort Collins-based nonprofit that educations students through outdoor excursions.
Photos courtesy Global Explorers

That is because Weihenmayer and the students are all blind. Perhaps the biggest goal of the trip was not necessarily the summit but a perception. What all of them would want the world to know is being vision-impaired does not impede them from fulfilling their aspirations.

On Thursday, March 13, audiences will be able to witness their journey up Lhakpa Ri in the award-winning documentary Blindsight at the Mayan Theatre in Denver.

Weihenmayer is first and foremost a talented and seasoned climber. He has reached the top of the Seven Summits - the highest points on all seven continents, as well as scaled Mount Everest. He recently scaled a 2200-foot frozen waterfall in Nepal with two other climbers in January and plans on reaching the top of Carstensz Pyramid in New Guinea later this year.

Weihenmayer made global headlines when in 2001 he became the first blind person to reach the summit of Everest, the tallest peak in the world. That accomplishment is a label Weihenmayer will carry forever. And that is something that is all right with him as long as he can wield it to perform some good -- such as getting programs he is affiliated with, like Braille Without Borders and Global Explorers, into the limelight.

In many ways the Lhakpa Ri expedition was tougher than his Everest climb. After his success on Everest, Weihenmayer received an e-mail from Braille Without Borders' cofounder, Sabriye Tenberken. Tenberken recruited him to return to the Himalayas and lead a group of her blind students up a mountain.

"It was a very monumental task, a very ambitious project," Weihenmayer said. "We can't assume (the students) know how to take care of themselves in a bad situation. The yak herders were threatening to mutiny because we weren't going fast enough for them. There was the difficulty of bringing a film crew up to altitude and getting the right shot.

"They wanted to film the kids coming out of camp. No, we've been here for 20 minutes waiting and the kids are getting hypothermic. The trip was just ripe with potential for tension."

While the group maybe couldn't see the yawning wide crevasses in the glaciers or see the vertical exposure of their position on the mountain, it doesn't mean the students nor Weihenmayer couldn't feel it.

"The sense of sound has textures," Weihenmayer explained. "The air is less dense at altitude. And when you are up pretty high it is pretty inspiring sound."

The students learned, not only climbing basics which every climber must learn first, but also how to offset not being able to see. Weihenmayer taught the students how to use their trekking poles to feel the way up the rocky trails and the mountainous landscape. Sometimes bells were used so students can get a vector on the direction their route took them.

"One of the things you do when you are blind is you think it is worse than it actually is," Weihenmayer said. "Your imagination gets the best of you. You might think it is a 1,000-foot drop next to you and it could be 20 feet of talus. You use your experience to get a footing into reality."

Braille Without Borders was conceived back in Tenberken's home country of Germany back in the late 90s. She learned there was no braille script for Tibetan. A script was developed for the vision-impaired and after a meeting with Tibetan and Chinese officials, she was determined to start a program to teach it.

Despite being blind, Tenberken didn't let her lack of sight deter her from her vision. She first proved to hesitant authorities her determination in starting Braille without Borders by traveling to and through Tibet unassisted.

The school now hosts 134 students and while empowerment of its students is a large goal of the program, it's biggest ordeal is changing the perception of the blind.

"It was really heartbreaking," Tenberken said. "There are some children that are tied to a pole in the house so they can't get out. There are some that are hidden in dark rooms. And that is mainly because families where ashamed they had blind students in their families."

Around the world, and sometimes with good intentions from people, the blind are marginalized. What Tenberken has witnessed after screenings of the documentary in Europe is the dialog that it generates in its audience. Through the emotional trials that the students go through in climbing Lhakpa Ri captured in the film, the audience can see past a person's inability to see and feel the conveyance of determination.

"We get the role of being human and sometimes being angry and sometimes being naughty," Tenberken said. 'You have all of these emotions. And the views of the audience is it doesn't really matter if you are blind or sighted."

The proceeds of the ticket sales at tonight's premiere at the Mayan Theatre go to Global Explorers - a Fort Collins nonprofit which expands teenagers' views and education through outdoor adventures.

Weihenmayer got involved with the group shortly after returning from Tibet. He helped lead a trip to the Peruvian Andes last year with students. One of whom was Terry Garrett. Garrett was inspired by not only Weihenmayer's accomplishments despite sharing the same disability as him, but also by the man himself.

"It was the most marvelous experience," Garrett said. "I had heard of his Everest climb. But what was better for me was to see the man in action and to be with him in action."

Blindsight premieres on Thursday, March 13 at the Mayan Theatre in Denver. It will be showing at the Starz FilmCenter at the Tivoli in Denver from Friday, March 14 through Thursday, March 20.

For more information about Global Explorers or to make a donation, you can visit their Web site at www.globalexplorers.com. For more information about Braille Without Borders, visit www.braillewithoutborders.org

SUMMIT COUNTY - I am buried deep into a frozen snow slope. The first thing I notice is it isn't dark. Light somehow filters through the snow, casting a bluish tint onto everything.

The other thing I realize is how quiet it is. Nearby, the Timberline Express lift is depositing by each arriving chair a multitude of skiers on this busy winter weekend at Copper Mountain Ski Resort. Music blares from speakers at the lift, yet the only noise audible is an occasional squeak of ski boots in the snow. Several feet and hundreds of pounds of snow can have that effect.

Time becomes distorted as five minutes seems like five hours. Just when I feel forgotten about, there is a peculiar noise - a faint shuffling sound of scraping . Soon greeting me, as a little sunshine pours into the snowy burial, are a pair of golden, furry paws.

The paws are replaced by the amicable visage of Tracker, a 6-year-old Golden Retriever mix. Her job is done now, I am the last of three avalanche victims spotted and rescued during her training exercise - all in less than 15 minutes.

I was somewhat reticent about volunteering for the avalanche activity practiced by ski patrol at Copper Mountain. I previously was socked and shaken by an avalanche several years ago while climbing in the Cascade Mountains. I learned firsthand how powerful a punch snow could possess. Even though the slide measured up only to my knees, it plucked me from the gully I was climbing up, and sent me cascading down 100 feet before I was able to escape from the slide's path.

The lesson learned was avalanches are serious business. That lesson hasn't been lost at Copper Mountain. While inbounds avalanches are extremely rare, the resort staffs eight handlers and avalanche dogs - just in case.

Nothing is more efficient than man's best friend in locating avalanche victims. All of the dogs, including Tracker and her coworker Cascade, and the trainers practice at least once a week to stay sharp, because in avalanche rescues, time is of the essence.

"After 30 minutes after burial, your survival rate decreases significantly," handler Chris Sutton said. "Sometimes (Cascade) has worked as fast as four burials in under 10 minutes. Sometimes it takes him longer. It really depends on the conditions and how the scent is coming to the surface."

While it is serious business for Sutton and fellow handler John Reller, it is all fun and games for their charges.

"Basically for him it is all play drive," Sutton said. "He finds a victim, he gets a toy. It's very rewarding. Naturally a Golden Retriever is very sociable, so they really enjoy playing with the victims in the cave."

The dogs and handlers also stay on top of their game by out-sourcing to missions outside of the ski area's boundaries. The canine teams at Copper Mountain work in cooperation with Flight For Life Colorado, specifically the chopper based in Frisco, on backcountry rescues. Reller, tenured 18 years as an avalanche dog handler, has taken part on quite a few of those missions - a number of them with somber endings.

"Even when you don't have a live find, you can at least bring some closure for the family and the friends of the victim," Reller said.

A third and unofficial mission for the dogs and their handlers is public relations. Reller said he has been greeted by several raised eyebrows when visitors find out the role of the cute canines.

"At first it is, 'Aww, look at the cute dog'," Reller said. "And then they ask what they are here for. And when they find out they are surprised or interested to learn more on what they do."

Said Lauren Pelletreau, communications manger at Copper Mountain: "I just know from personal experience you walk into a patrol headquarters, it's just great to see their wagging tails and smiling faces."