KEY POINTS:
I have seen innumerable times film taken of Ed Hillary in the few months after he climbed Mt Everest, and I am always reminded how impossible it is to capture on any visual medium the essence of a man of action.
Not long after he came home, I was at a press conference in Parliament Buildings where it was announced Hillary would lead the New Zealand Antarctic expedition to support Vivian Fuchs's mid-1950s bid to make the first land crossing across the southern continent, from Shackleton, via the South Pole.
He, of course, was the showpiece of the occasion. I had never seen him before and I can't remember much about what was said, but time cannot blur the indelible image of restless animal energy. He was lean as a lamp post, with large feet and hands that had an affirmative presence of their own. He seemed to be straining to sit reasonably still long enough to make his statement and answer questions in a way that would satisfy the political requirements imposed on him.
After a brief period during which he explained what his expedition planned, the coil seemed to tighten in his spring and he gave the impression that if we would just leave it at that he would get up and set out for Antarctica right away. So when he made such good progress down there, it was no surprise to anyone who knew him that by temperament he could not hang about and wait for Fuchs. He pushed on to the Pole and arrived there first.
Over the years, going about my journalistic business, I met him a number of times. I noted the change as he slowed down bit by bit and became a more reflective man. I recall suggesting to him once - and kind of urging him to agree for the purposes of my story - that more recent climbers of Everest had better equipment and greater support than he had had. But he would have none of that. He deflected the suggestion and told me of the advantages he had had over his predecessors, how the weather had favoured him and how on a bad day the mountain would defeat anyone.
That's what I came to respect him for most: his unaffected modesty. And I'm certainly not alone in that. Thousands of us know in our hearts that genuine people are the ones who do their best at whatever challenge they accept, and do not skite or talk themselves up. I believe he became the most revered New Zealander of his time because he was the sort of person we all wanted to be - someone who would let their achievements do all the talking.
At a time when grandstanding and self-congratulation are seen as personal accessories by the successful, he was the symbol of humility and decency we wish were more widely aspired to.
