It was clear that something was amiss when I opened my e-mail account two weeks ago and found it filled with messages.

There was one from a friend in New Zealand. Another from a buddy in Texas. Another from a guy in Malaysia I once met on a glacier in Russia.

The first one I opened, from a long-lost friend in Singapore, said it best: "Have you heard?" she wrote. "We've lost Sir Ed."

To the worldwide community of climbers, expeditionary hikers and associated wannabes, the passing of Sir Edmund Hillary was heartbreaking stuff.

As part of a British expedition led by John Hunt, Hillary (a New Zealand beekeeper) and Sherpa Tenzing Norgay executed the first successful climb to the 29,028-foot summit of Everest — the highest point on Earth — in May 1953.

The accomplishment was feted as an affirmation of the continued greatness of the British Empire. In fact, as Time magazine correctly noted when it named Hillary and Norgay to its Time 100 list of heroes and icons, what the explorers actually represented was the rise of nations once considered marginal.

In stark contrast to the long lineage of Old World explorers whose exploits were painted in the presumptuous colors of "discovery" and "conquest," Hillary distinguished himself with his humility and generosity. (His most ungracious words may have been uttered to George Lowe as he returned from the summit: "Well, George, we've knocked the bastard off.")

If Norgay is the most famous indigenous guide in history, it is is because Hillary regarded him as a partner, not another nameless, faceless servant to the great Anglo cause.

Nepalese authorities credited Norgay with being the first to reach the summit. And while Norgay denied the accomplishment in his autobiography, Hillary, understanding what the claim meant to the Nepalese, Tibetan and Sherpa people, remained mum. It wasn't until Norgay again admitted, shortly before his death, that Hillary was a few steps ahead of him at the summit that Hillary acknowledged his accomplishment.

I once attempted to interview Hillary but was told by a rep, "Ed's just left for Tibet. Perhaps in the spring. ..." That spring, Hillary was hard at work, I was told, at one of the humanitarian projects he championed on behalf of the Sherpa and Tibetan people.

While I never met the man, I've come to understand his legacy through the scores of tough, funny, eccentric, free-spirited climbers I've met.

In that corny, oxygen-deprived way, I like to think that Sir Ed is still with us, still knocking off the bastards one by one.

Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@honoluluadvertiser.com.