The wind howled, and conditions deteriorated along the summit ridge leading to the highest point on Denali. It was June 2, 2013 and the pair found themselves in a whiteout that engulfed the entire sky. It was-15°F, and a freezing wind battered their faces.

Suddenly, one of the men slipped off the ridge, his red jacket disappearing out of view. The man on the other end of that rope was Ryan Kushner, and he found himself careening towards a 5000 foot drop being pulled over the edge by his partner.

“This was how I will die” he recalls thinking, but, miraculously, his ice axe saved him. On that particular day, he’d decided to attach it to his harness, an uncommon technique. He grabbed the axe and dug it into the frozen snow, belaying him while his partner dangling over the ridge of the highest point in North America. This wasn’t their plan, but in a sport that juggles the joy of self-fulfillment, extraordinary feats of athleticism, and real and imminent peril, it was exactly the rush that kept him going.

Ryan Kushner grew up near San Francisco but quickly found his way to Colorado. Enthralled with idea of big mountains and pristine alpine lakes, he settled for work with a big corporation–but a small office. The thrill of that career decision wore off quickly, and he hit the hills with a buddy who persuaded him to climb Mt. Elbert, the highest of peaks in Colorado. Although overweight and out of shape, he pushed himself, climbed past his friend, and gained the summit. Things clicked, and he began a quest to climb his own ladder. His pace quickened, and his best friend, a stout dog named Sophie, seemed to be the only one willing to keep up with Ryan.He learned that technical climbs like Kelso Ridge along Torrey’s Peak felt good, and Kiener’s Route on Longs Peak in Rocky Mountain National Park was a fun hike. Six years since that first hike up Elbert, he’s conquered 179 “fourteener” peaks. He took on 54 in one prolonged effort.  If that’s not impressive, his dog Sophie has nearly eclipsed him with 107 “fourteener” summits.

In a natural progression, international ascents become his way of taking “vacation time” at work when his boss demanded he use his paid time off.

“It was eye opening to get out of America and witness the Bolivian culture. The simple people radiate joy and happiness that I’ve never experienced in my own life.” Ryan exclaimed.

The cultural aspect of traveling and mountaineering internationally had struck a chord with him. His excitement was contagious. When he summited Illimani, breaking the 20,000 foot mark, he gained a greater understanding about what he was doing and its impact on others. With a serious look on his face, Ryan says “Mountaineering is selfish in and of itself.”

His insight is well taken. When we consider the amount of resources necessary for a team of merely 2-4 people to summit a peak above 20,000 feet, and the wasteful impact left behind, it is easy to see why he said this. That is all too true when we acknowledge that we push our boundaries to overcome insurmountable obstacles, withstand days and hours of torment to stand above the rest–to reach higher than others–and fulfill a desire to reach the nirvana of a summit. With this must come consideration of the life of porters and communities who provide the resources and labor necessary so that we can achieve, often leaving them with little recognition.

Soon after Illimani came Denali (Alaska), Aconcaqua (Argentina), Lenin Peak (Kyrgyzstan-Tajikistan), and most recently Chopicalqui (Peru). With his breadth of ascents and failures, his progression took him to where he stands today, staring at a map of Gasherbrum II.

The peak stands at 26,362 feet, one of fourteen 8, 000 meter peaks in the world with familiar names like Everest, Makalu, and K2. To put into perspective his attempt, he will be leading an American Expedition with 4 team members, planning to summit without the use of supplemental oxygen–a feat less than 20 American climbers have achieved on Gasherbrum II. His attempt marks a high point in the realm of professional mountaineering.

Ryan has revealed his little secret of standing on top of big mountains to only a few family members and friends. His Facebook is littered with random photos taken by others, with only a handful of his posted each year. He doesn’t use an Instagram or Twitter, let alone a personal website. His email ends in @aol.com, and he has trouble accessing it on his dated smartphone. You could call him a quiet adventurer, one who is hard to find these days.

Because most brands are concerned mainly with content, athletes and mountaineers are pushed to document as much as they can and share it with the public. This past year has been one of the biggest for big mountain media, including the heralded Meru film, released on a small scale, and the big screen Everest, an adaptation of Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air. I became a huge fan of the SnapChat app once I saw Cory Richards and Adrian Ballinger video document–in short bits–their attempt to summit Mt Everest. It allowed anyone with a Smartphone in their pocket to see what it’s like to climb the world’s highest mountain.

Ryan looks at me and squints; I hold my camera steady and snap a shot of him; he stands there looking dead into the lens; he takes posing for a photo as seriously as as his climbs. I tell him to relax and his shoulders drop a bit but his head remains bent forwards and his eye stoic. I remember last year, on a Monday morning, he asked me if I wanted to help him train and I agreed. He said to meet at Mt Morrison, a popular hiking trail on a small mountain near the famous Red Rocks Amphitheater. I showed up and we stretched. It was 7:00 a.m.  A few fit looking girls came running down the trailhead straight to their cars. Ryan turned towards me and cracked a smile, “Look at that, people already finishing, time to go.”

I nodded, but felt uneasy about the trial ahead.

“All right, we’ll run up and down; see you up there” said Ryan.

Next thing I knew I was keeled over breathing heavy with my heart beating out of my chest; Ryan was nowhere to be found. About three-quarters of the way up the trail, Ryan, now without a shirt and with blood on his knee, came running furiously down the trail and hit me with a high five

“Nice work, I will see you on my way back up.”

I shook my head and didn’t really understand what he meant until, on my way down the trail, I saw him coming back up with a head of steam and hands pumping. Needless to say. I didn’t go back up for more that day, I was spent.

I was drawn to Ryan not for his big mountain summits and ambitious morning climbs before he was due at work, but for his altruistic personality. After a few years he realized that mountaineering was his passion, but inspiring and helping others fulfilled him. He had overcome the greatest crux he would ever face, and that was the realization that he could do more for others than he could for himself on top of a mountain. “Happiness is only real when shared,” said by Chris McCandless, points directly to the phenomenon of validating our own bliss by sharing it with others and witnessing together the joy of life.

Most people won’t be able to join Ryan on his quest of conquering high mountains in foreign lands, but they will reap a benefit from his effort to involve communities and support nonprofits. He inspires people who gain strength and hope from Ryan’s example. We are encouraged and motivated when we see an ordinary man who achieves extraordinary feats. The quiet adventurer has made a big impact with his last few climbs, partnering with nonprofit organizations. He plans to smash his fundraising goal on his next courageous attempt.

In Pakistan, he will be partnering with the Brain Injury Alliance of Colorado who directly helped his girlfriend (who sustained a traumatic brain injury during a routine hike on a section of Long’s Peak). It has been 10 and one half months, and she is still recovering with the help of family and friends. He has suggested a commitment from his donors of $2 per 1000 feet above sea level he climbs; he will have 26,000 feet he can possible gain.

June 19 is when it begins. A slog of a flight to get to Pakistan turns immediately into a 10 day trek to base camp. Another 30 to 40 days is projected for climbing and descending the Goliath of a mountain, situated in a country fractured with eruptions of violence which disrupt a peaceful, beautiful culture.

For Ryan, it’s the realization of a 3 year dream, to attempt a 8, 000 meter peak, to disprove a fellow big name climber on Pyramid Peak who he once thought was the Michael Jordan of mountaineering, overcoming a major hip surgery last year, and to inspire others around him to strive towards achieving the next great goal of their lives. I, with others, will anxiously await his messages once he is on the mountain. For the next two months, the quiet mountaineer from Colorado will be tackling his biggest challenge yet, marking his presence in the mountaineering community loud and clear.