The Mountain Called Her By Name

Devi and father Willi
Nanda Devi courtesy of Stanford Alpine Club


The ripple effect from Nanda Devi Unsoeld’s arrival as a new junior in Olympia High School in 1970 reached me within minutes, as I felt the impact of her presence on campus immediately.  One of my friends elbowed me, pointing out a new girl being escorted down the hall by the assistant principal.  Students stared at the wake she left behind: Devi had wildly flowing wavy long blonde hair, a friendly smile and bold curious eyes greeting everyone she met.

From the neck up, she fit right in with the standard appearance at the time:  as the younger sisters of the 60’s generation of free thinking flower children, we tried to emulate them in our dress and style, going braless and choosing bright colors and usually skirts that were too short and tight.   There was the pretense we didn’t really care how we looked, but of course we did care very much, with hours spent daily preparing the “casual carefree” look that would perfectly express our freedom from fashion trends amid our feminist longings. Practicing careful nonconformity perfectly fit our peers’ expectations and aggravated our parents.

But Devi never looked like she cared what anyone else thought of her.  The high school girls honestly weren’t sure what to make of her, speculating together whether she was “for real” and viewed her somewhat suspiciously, as if she was putting on an act.

The boys were mesmerized.

She preferred baggy torn khaki shorts or peasant skirts with uneven hems, loose fitting faded T shirts and ripped tennis shoes without shoelaces.  Her legs were covered with long blonde hair, as were her armpits which she showed off while wearing tank tops.   She pulled whole cucumbers from her backpack in class and ate them like cobs of corn, rind and all.  She smelled like she had been camping without a shower for three days, but then riding her bike to school from her home 8 miles away in all kinds of weather accounted for that.   One memorable day she arrived a bit late to school, pushing her bike through 6 inches of snow in soaking tennis shoes, wearing her usual broad smile of satisfaction.

As a daughter of two Peace Corps workers who had just moved back to the U.S. after years of service in Nepal, Devi had lived very little of her life in the United States.  Her father Willi Unsoeld, one of the first American climbers to reach the summit of Mt. Everest up the difficult west face, had recently accepted a professorship in comparative religion at a local college.  He moved his wife and family back to the northwest to be near his beloved snowy peaks,  suddenly immersing four children in an affluent culture that seemed foreign and wasteful.

Devi recycled before there was a word for it simply by never buying anything new and never throwing anything useful away, involved herself in social justice issues before anyone had coined the phrase, and was an activist behind the scenes more often than a leader, facilitating and encouraging others to speak out at anti-war rallies, organizing sit-ins for world hunger and volunteering in the local soup kitchen.  She mentored adolescent peers to get beyond their self-consciousness and self-absorption to explore the world beyond the security of high school walls.

Regretfully, few of us followed her lead.  We preferred the relative security and camaraderie of hanging out at the local drive-in to taking a shift at the local 24 hour crisis line.  We showed up for our graduation ceremony in caps and gowns while the rumor was that Devi stood at the top of Mt. Rainier with her father that day.

I never saw Devi after high school but heard of her plans in 1976 to climb with an expedition to the summit of Nanda Devi,  the peak in India for which she was named.  She never returned, dying in her father’s arms as she suffered severe abdominal pain and irreversible high altitude sickness just below the summit.  She lies forever buried in the ice on that faraway peak in India.  Her father died in an avalanche only a few years later, as he led an expedition of college students on a climb on Mt. Rainier, only 60 miles from home.

Had Devi lived these last 40 years, I have no doubt she would have led our generation with her combination of charismatic boldness and excitement about each day’s new adventure.  She lived without pretense, without hiding behind a mask of fad and fashion and conformity and without the desire for wealth or comfort.

I wish I had learned what she had to teach me when she sat beside me in class, encouraging me by her example to become someone more than the dictates of societal expectations. I secretly admired the freedom she embodied in not being concerned in the least about fitting in.   Instead, I still mourn her loss all these years later, having to be content with the legacy she has now left behind on a snowy mountain peak that called her by name.


14 thoughts on “The Mountain Called Her By Name

  1. I so love starting my day with your writing and photography. I just wish I didn’t end these sessions in tears so often. Your words and photography touch me deeply.


  2. What a beautiful tribute. It’s funny how people we meet in our youth influence us as we remember them as we age. I wish I had known her.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh Emily, you did learn what she had to teach you. She didn’t just leave her legacy on the mountain top. What a beautiful memorial you have shared with us. Thank you so much. A reminder to me that our spirit is never but a thought away. What a beautiful smile.


  4. What a beautiful short life and long legacy. Inspired by both females you have written about and what lasting impressions a young life can leave on us. God uses the most unassuming people.


  5. I am feeling guided by your story to take the path less traveled today. Thank you for helping me to choose between a position with a new emerging company and an adventure with my husband. I have chosen the latter.
    Great Blog!


  6. She did leave an impression. Every now and again memories of her walk through my thoughts. Not nearly as clear as you have so beautifully written here but more a recognition by my soul that I had been ever so briefly in the same space as she.


  7. Mary, I think that is it — we did encounter her — that seemed all she would allow at that time in her life — and we watched and learned from her without really knowing we did.


  8. Thanks Christine,
    guess this is the week I needed to recall those that walked through my life in some way and helped me be better in some way. Thanks!


  9. Laura,
    Devi’s smile was a mile wide! And I like your “our spirit is never but a thought away” — what a wonderful way to think of those who have passed from this earth and I know you are in that time of remembrance and thoughtfulness yourself. Blessings to you!
    (and I imagine you with a mile-wide smile too!)


  10. Ah, thanks Leah. I don’t aim for the tears but they are always close to the surface for me, so I’m not surprised they are for you too. Thank you!


  11. Devi was my high school girlfriend during our Junior year. I, Marc Young and Greg Youtz joined her on those bike rides to school from the west side where we all lived. She had me wearing sandals in the snow before long. Over many dinners at their beach house Willi opened my mind to a much bigger world than our little town of Olympia. Our friend Ted Wills kept his canoe at her house. Devi and I paddled it across the bay during a very windy day with 4 foot waves. I was terrified but Devi started singing and I when I asked her why, she said singing helped her paddle harder and forget the fear. She was a free spirit who left us far too young.

    Liked by 1 person

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