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British Colonel John Hunt, leader of the expedition, chooses two Brits out of his team to leave the South Col where they are encamped at 25,940 feet elevation and make a bid for the summit. The prize; to be the first to climb the world’s tallest mountain, Mt Everest at 29,035 feet. But hours later, intimidated by a razor-like ridge, they return to camp.

The next day, Colonel Hunt turns to his back-up plan – a beekeeper from New Zealand and a local Sherpa guide. Probably the strongest of the group yes, but not Hunt’s ideal plan. It would be far better for British nationals to bag the summit. After all, the world was watching. The beekeeper, Edmund Hillary, and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay now had their turn.

World War II had ravaged Great Britain, tumbling the great empire from her long-held position of world power and influence. She could no longer maintain her colonies. The country was poor, relying upon loans from the U.S. (which they paid off in February 2007) to finance her slow reconstruction. Cripe. Groveling before one her old colonies.

One bright spot had been the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II a year before for maybe a new Queen meant better times ahead. It might have only been a straw to grasp, but even a small hope is still hope.

The Brits needed this mountain – this heroic achievement. And ironically, it now rested upon the shoulders of two men who were, well, not Brits. And one of them was a beekeeper (a beekeeper!). Hillary and Norgay had set out in middle-of-the-night darkness and had been gone much longer than the Brits of the day prior. No doubt Colonel Hunt wondered if like George Mallory (“Because it’s there.”) and Sandy Irving of 30 years before, Hillary and Norgay had disappeared never to be heard from again.

Well, we know they did indeed return. The ridge, though daunting, didn’t stop them. But after the ridge, 300 vertical feet from the summit, they faced a 70-foot granite wall that looked all but impassable. It was no small feat that Hillary free-climbed the wall in boots, crampons, oxygen tanks, and thick clothing at 28,750 feet elevation where even the smallest exertion leaves you gasping for air – even with a tank of it on your back. Today’s climbers used permanently fixed ropes to climb what has been named The Hillary Step. Fifty years after his climb, Hillary’s son Peter climbed Everest and called his dad on a satellite phone from the summit. After Peter spoke for a few moments, his father excitedly cut in and said, “So what did you think of that Hillary Step!” It had made an impression.

Edmund Hillary and Tenzig Norgay returned heroes. In London people lined the streets and cheered as they drove past. They’d done it. Two men climbed, but an entire nation had summated. The Brits had conquered Mt Everest. And in humbling the world’s highest peak, maybe they could, and now would overcome their own granite walls. There was hope. In a world gone bad, this was some good. And if there is some good, there can be a little more good. Even a little hope is still hope.

Here’s how Hillary, the beekeeper from New Zealand who mostly climbed for recreation on weekends, described his accomplishment,

“You don’t have to be a fantastic hero to do certain things – to compete. You can be just an ordinary chap, sufficiently motivated.”

I like that. Ultimately, it’s what I’ve done on the inside that dictates what I accomplish on the outside. Like those first Brits who had the chance to summit Everest, they got scared at the ridge. What was inside of them wasn’t working for them in this great moment. Next day, same ridge…different guys…different stuff inside – crossed the ridge and beyond. And back in England, you have the same people facing the same dire times, but now something inside had changed. And in changing, the tide for them had turned. Their recovery as a nation can be traced to this moment. Perhaps that was what Edmund Hillary was talking about when he said,

“It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.”