A few years ago, I read a book called High Intensity, by Belle Reilly, the story of two women who met while climbing Mt. Everest. I sent a note to Belle, gushing with praise at the realism of her story, and was frankly surprised to learn she hadn’t attempted the climb herself, and didn’t personally know anyone who had.

If Worth Every Step reads somewhat like a travelogue, that’s because in many ways, it is. Like everyone in my climbing group, I kept a daily journal and took hundreds of photos. I described every aspect of the trip in as much detail as possible, from what we ate to where we slept and how we felt. Lots of scenes in the book are reminiscent of things that actually happened, though the characters in the book are purely fiction. Any resemblance to anyone real is entirely coincidence. There was no young, nubile, lustful, gorgeous, attentive, curious woman in my tent. I swear.

As I wrote this story, I pored over my journal and photos, as well as the tour company’s brochures and the souvenir books I purchased. There is abundant information on the Web about various routes, itineraries and game lodges, along with hundreds of personal accounts.