KEY POINTS:
I never met him, I knew him as every other New Zealander did, as the epitome of us.
For many years I have wondered how the country could possibly do him justice at his death; what can you modestly say about a man who personified so much of
what we hope we are?
He was the archetype of modesty, never giving the slightest hint that his deserved stature and our admiration of him had gone to his head.
His modesty was nothing short of a marvel because almost every week, it seemed, some organisation or another was paying a tribute to him. Setting up a Hillary award, a Hillary fund, a Hillary memorial for something.
He dutifully turned up to receive them, not because he needed them, of course, but because he knew it would help a good cause.
And in all those appearances, all his interviews, all the times that reporters would phone him for a comment, whether on subjects he knew about or just an event that everyone was talking about, I cannot remember a regrettable remark.
Scarcely a slip in 50 years. It is astonishing when you think about it. It could only have happened because the man was indeed as sensible, unassuming, good-natured and generous as he seemed.
He had all of those qualities and he also had opinions. He was not too nice to be interesting. He had views that were occasionally controversial, particularly on modern mountaineering, but any of his thoughts were worth hearing.
He seemed to have considered everything he said, even when performing formalities.
He did much more than climb a mountain or cross Antarctica or do his outdoorsy things. He gave us the model New Zealander. I don't suppose it was a conscious purpose for him once he realised his recreational achievement had made him a national hero, but it's a role he could've ducked, or deliberately ruined if he chose.
Over the years he could have wearied of the country's expectations and taken the phone off the hook. In tired moments he could have said something that would quickly destroy his image. He never did.
He knew, I think, how important he was to us. Every country needs one or more "living national treasures", as Japan calls them even after their death. I don't know of any country that has one as perfect as ours.
Don Bradman characterises the qualities Australians most admire, Churchill does the same for the British, Lindberg perhaps for the United States. Comparisons are unnecessary - let's just say we wouldn't trade ours for anyone.
National Radio bulletins yesterday were calling him, "One of our greatest heroes." One of? The word hero is inadequate, too. He probably hated it. He was our greatest figure, our ideal image of ourselves and he was real.
The tall, sinewy, cheerful young climber, whose bounding fitness made him the British expedition's choice to summit Everest, came home to give us something greater than an achievement of world note.
He gave us pride in the extraordinary ordinary man he was able to remain. He climbed the highest mountain and kept his feet on the ground. He leaves his quality, I hope, in all of us.
