Special Features: Quest for Expedition Everest

Posted at 10:35 AM EST (1535 GMT)

Feb. 23rd, 2006 -- Last week I received a missive from a filming company. They were looking for people to take part in a short production they were making talking about a new tourist journey they were offering. It was to be a short advertisement to be shown encouraging people to try out their expeditions to conquer Mount Everest. Would we be willing to take part in such a journey for the cameras? We quickly agreed, and on Tuesday, my daughter, son and I embarked early on a foggy, misty morning from our home near Tampa, to conquer the great mountain.

We arrived at the fog shrouded park early in the morning, well before anyone but the maintenance crew was there. The mist covered the park, making it look like a rainforest or jungle waiting for our expedition to head in and explore its mysterious realms. After we had gathered everyone in our hearty troupe together, we quickly filled out our paperwork and began the trek. We crossed through a small jungle, with only a few deserted shops as the only signs of civilization nearby. Suddenly out of the foggy gloom a huge, ancient tree with carvings all over it appeared. The shroud still made it difficult to see all of the ancient symbols and signs that had been cut into its massive trunk, but it reassured us that we were going someplace special.

The arduous trek took us past a land of long extinct creatures, raising their massive necks out of the mist. As we continued the mist suddenly parted in front of us and revealed, rising out of the ground, a huge snow-covered peak rising far above us. The goal of our journey was in sight-- a great mountain to be conquered. And together we would.

We prepared for our journey in a small, quaint but quite old village at the base of the mountain. There we prepared our gear, got the cameras set and mounted, and set our hearts upon our goal. But not before the villagers had warned us. "Beware the Yeti," they cautioned. "He is very dangerous and has been angry lately. He will not like you intruding on his territory. Do not upset him. If you do, you will be lucky to escape with your lives."

A bit nervous due to the warnings, we were not to be dissuaded. Our guides readjusted the cameras they had mounted on the trains that would take us on our journey, being sure to capture the view of those on board during the trip as well as the ride itself. It took a while, and we waited patiently but full of anxiety. My son was separated from me to ride near the front of the train, while my daughter and I would have to wait and take another train. I was worried for him but assured that he would be safe.

After many minutes, he returned, elated in his group's successful journey. "We made it!" he cried. "And it was incredible! But we were lucky. We just missed the beast, and he was angry."

This was not good news for our group, but we were committed. We loaded into the train, stowed our gear and buckled ourselves in. With a wave and a whistle from the steam engines, we were off, beginning our climb up the mountain. It started out easily enough, with beautiful forests, wildlife and scenery. Beginning a larger climb, we passed by an ancient building, apparently built in homage to the Yeti. It was a sight that chilled us to the bone, but we couldn't stop now. We were to close to our goal-- to conquer the mountain.

At last we were there! We made it. As we crested the peak, we began a small turn around the mountain, beginning to glide down in the mist. An eagle flew by, and it caused our hearts to soar! But then the train came to a sudden, jerking stop. Our hearts began to tremble in fear as we all realized that we had a major problem. Looking forward we saw what it was: the tracks! They were torn up, destroyed and splayed out in the air. There was no way that we were going to be able to pass through. We were in serious trouble.

Without warning the train started moving again-- backward! Wait, this wasn't supposed to happen. We were free falling backward down the mountain; twisting, turning, with no way to control our descent, nor even to even really see where we were going. It was all happening so quickly. Then we heard it. The roaring. Loud, echoing off of the sides of the mountain. Now we knew what had happened and how much trouble we were in. The noise assaulted us. Finally, our train stopped its terrifying backward plunge in a cavern. But the noise continued to follow us.

With barely enough time to catch our breath, he was upon us. Another trestle of track over our heads became little more than kindling in his strong hands. As he turned his attention upon us, the screams of the doomed on our train rose throughout the cavern. Our end was upon us!

It becomes a blur from there. I was sure that we were doomed, that we would be ripped to shreds and torn asunder. But somehow the train began moving again and we escaped. I don't know how. I remember one sudden, frightful plunge that I think took us out and to safety, but I couldn't say for sure. The next thing I was aware of was our train pulling back into the station, with all of us grateful for our miraculous escape, breathing a sigh of relief. My daughter was clinging to my arm but happy to be alive. Somehow we had survived our encounter with the Yeti.

The director came over and asked how we were. Did we make it? Were we excited? How bad was the encounter? And finally, the question we were all dreading: "Are you ready to do it again?"

You bet!