"The journey, not the destination, matters" - said the poet and playwright T. S. Elliott. Tell that to Joachim Splitz who preferred to make the fast way down
Joachim Splitz celebrated his birthday about a month ago, when the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren had to watch him try in vain to blow out 97 candles.
“I have a dream,” he surprised them, “and if my bladder allows, I will also go out to fulfill it.”
He took off a week later with a special expedition to the famous mountain. The Himalayan mountain range was about to receive an special visitor.
Preparations for the trip took a little longer as Mr. Splitz spent most of his time sleeping and burping in the sanctuary at the foot of the Nepalese mountain.
The delegation left early in the morning. Mr. Splitz boarded the eight-morning train and joined the others.
The air was thin and cold, and strong winds blew away his last set of teeth. The summit was closer than ever and Mr Splitz continued step by step, walking stick after walking stick and nurse after nurse.
It was evening when he finally reached the top of the mountain, the clouds at his feet, and only the wind whistled in his right ear, the one that did not fall due to the cold and the ailments of age.
Mr. Splitz looked around. He stood at the top of the world, but the view was not to his liking. “What’s all this crappy white down there?” Grumbled to his Filipino nurse. “It’s just mountains and white and gray rocks, and no women. Bye bye.” These were the last words of Mr. Joachim Splitz.
According to the only eyewitness, Mr. Splitz just jumped from the summit down. Due to his advanced age, dilapidated physical condition, loose health and exhaustion, Mr. Splitz cracked his thigh when he finally crashed on the mountainside, and paramedics had to bandage him in an elastic bandage. Later that evening he died of a cold.
His children preferred to bury him at the foot of the mountain he so loved from afar, and disappointed from up close.