Mount Everest — Only the sky aboveMy journey to the top of the world 29,028 feet — on 27 May 1999 Helga Hengge reaches the top of the world, the highpoint of an exciting career between the extremes of creative work and outstanding mountaineering achievement. In her inspiring account she takes her readers on an adventure through Tibet and up to the summit of Mount Everest offering authentic insights into the dynamics of tackling the ultimate challenge. Accompanied by spectacular images of her two-month long ascent she shares her story of pushing physical and emotional boundaries and the secrets of her success. New York Fashion Stylist Helga Hengge isn't your classic mountain woman. So when she decided to climb Mount Everest, no one expected her to make the history books. Finally, after six weeks of waiting, of hiking up and down between 17,000 and 26,000 feet to help our bodies acclimatize to the altitude, the day of our summit bid had arrived. The weather forecasted for May 27th, 1999, was clear skies — a long-anticipated window between storms. Although it was nearly midnight here at Camp 4, 27,200 feet above sea level, the full moon made it look like morning. The orange down cocoons next to me had begun to stir, and I could hear the Sherpas slurping soup in the silence. The top of my sleeping bag was crusted with snow crystals. I took off my oxygen mask and got dressed in bed, careful not to overlook two layers of fleece, down pants, down jacket, summit socks, heat liners in my boots and gloves; sunblock and glasses in one pocket, water bottle with hot tea in another; cough drops, crackers, goggles and tissues in my pack.To stand on top of the world, to look down over its curve with no higher place to go — it was a vision I'd had in dreams for years. I just never expected I'd climb to the top of Everest and get to see it myself. I'm not exactly your classic mountain woman. I was born in the U.S. to German parents, and although I grew up in Munich, I work in New York City as a fashion stylist for magazines, including this one. The most physical aspect of my job is carrying huge trunks of clothing to and from photo shoots. I like to jog and hike to keep in shape, but I've never been particularly adventurous, either. When I read Into Thin Air, Jon Krakauer's 1996 bestseller, I thought everyone in the book was nuts. A huge storm had swept the mountain and killed eight people. The survivors lost noses, fingers and toes to frostbite. Not bad, considering the One of every 10 people who summit fails to make it down alive. Why would anyone do something so obviously self-destructive? In truth, I did have an inkling. When I was a little girl, my grandparents would spend two months a year climbing in the Himalayas — in places such as Butan, Pakistan, Nepal and the tiny kingdom of Mustang, where they were the first Germans to ever set foot. Once a year, they would invite us to watch a slide show of their travels. My grandmother, who had rugged, tanned skin covered with freckles from her weeks spent outdoors, served my mother, my five siblings and me tea. My grandfather worked the projector as we sat on pillows and stared at the wall. There, pagodas glowed golden in the sunset, colorful prayer flags fluttered in the wind and snowcapped mountain peaks towered like waves on a stormy ocean. I was transfixed. One year, however, my grandfather almost died when he tumbled partway down a couloir before his fixed rope could stop him. My mother was so scared by his accident that even when my siblings and I were older and my grandparents had died, she was still reluctant to let us climb anything higher than the mountains surrounding Munich. Helga Hengge, who has dual citizenship, was the first German woman to successfully summit Everest and the first American woman to do so from the North side.