Ulysses’ Social Temptations and Compromises

I can’t help but think of Ulysses on his odyssey these days. When the battle was over, he and his men set sail for home. The uncharted territory was sea-gone wilderness. His ship was essentially alone in the world to the point where everything they just left and everything back at home was irrelevant to their experience of the moment — they were entirely independent in every sense. No one at home knew how they were or even whether they would return.

Finding comparable adventures that are escapes from connections of our home and battles of daily life have to be sought out — often vigorously — in this day and age. As the New York Times article entitled On the Ledge and Online that seems to have circulated all over Facebook and Twitter among outdoors enthusiasts says, even the outdoor adventures we often use to be independent and alone are not necessarily the solitary adventure of Ulysses and his crew.

Since the advent of the telegraph and the railroad in the 1800s during the Industrial Age — the precursor to the Information Age, our quest for such dis-connections for renewal were often found in the hills through hiking and mountain climbing. (This was aided by the rise in popularity of walking for fitness and competitions — called pedestrianism — which was a first in England around the same time.) What was once just a method for military movements and ways of merchants, now became a wonderfully frivolous activity for mankind.

As a blogger and a dedicated armchair mountaineer, I rely on those social media connections to follow active climbers as well as the happenings around my favorite mountain destinations. But how much connectivity is too much? Suddenly alpinists  are sending Tweets from the summit of Mount Everest and the walls of Yosemite — during their climbs. Climbers have already spent energy and resources filming their climbs and writing daily dispatches to their fans. The biggest offenders in this area are usually sponsors, and in the English language media, are usually The North Face and National Geographic.

Many go to the wilderness to be Ulysses and escape the notion of being constantly in contact and enjoy being wild — in the nature sense, not the party animal sense. However when climbers take up sponsorships they are often subject to certain terms. Updating Facebook pages and sending Tweets can be quite beneficial to drawing a market’s attention to a sponsor, particularly during a well publicized attempt at a route.

However, it can also be like bringing those people with you. When I take a family vacation from work in my nation’s capital, I try to leave the smartphone from my job turned off, otherwise, my time away is often no different than an ordinary weekend.

Many sponsored climbers are attaining the status of professional athletes of popularized team sports. Their responsibilities as celebrities — including during their expeditions — to their fans and followers adds a new element to how we enjoy our sport. I think amateur climbers seeking wilderness will appreciate their amateur status all the more.

Interestingly, following climbers through social media has some broadly reaching benefits. For example, I also follow bobsled competitions. It’s a somewhat obscure sport. Without the posts of Olympic Gold Medelist Steve Holcomb and the team’s blog, I wouldn’t be able to follow them as closely as I do my favorite baseball team. Living vicariously through someone else’s alpine endeavors, whether they are reported live or after the expedition is irrelevant to me — just tell your story.

The use of social media in the mountains by climbers — while it should be discouraged for the purposes of being Ulysses — is likely to build a larger, more-informed audience for the sport. The real question is where does this take the sport next? Edelweiss and I believe that the younger generation of climbers that use social networks to a greater extent than my generation may continue to inject social connections during climbs. That is, unless, those younger climbers seeking the mountains are trying following the path of Ulysses.

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Sources: 1) Lowther, Alex, “On the Ledge and Online: Solitary Sport turns Social,” New York Times, December 9, 2011; 2) Graham Brown, Thomas and Sir Gavin Byland DeBeers, The First Ascent of Mont Blanc, Oxford University Press, London, 1957, p. 11.

Four Winter Attempts Set for Karakorum

Here is an update in case you hadn’t heard. Climbing magazine’s website is reporting that not only is a Russian Team attempting K2 this winter but that Italian alpinist Simone Moro and Kazakhstan climber Denis Urubko will leave on Boxing Day (December 26th) to attempt Nanga Parbat via the Diamir Face. Another small Polish team, led by Piotr Strzezysz, will also attempt Nanga Parbat. Lastly, an international team will try to summit Gasherbrum I. This leaves, at last news, only Broad Peak not to be addressed this season.

Why does this matter? Because only four of the 14 Himalayan mountains over 8,000 meters have not yet been summited in winter. It’s particularly significant in the scope of mountaineering challenges. For instance, these record firsts are not trivial firsts or firsts that interests only a nationality (like the first American to climb Annapurna,) or a gender (first woman to climb the the 8,000ers without supplemental oxygen, for instance.)

Too many qualifiers means it’s not universally important. The important firsts are those of the challenge of first ascent, first alpine style ascent and often the first ascent in winter — regardless or who accomplishes the climb in terms of nationality, race or gender. While the qualifiers matter, the unqualified accomplishment is broadly significant.

So that’s something to live vicariously with. I’ll keep you posted… I hope you will do me the same favor…

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When is Challenging Objective Risk Foolish?

A couple of weeks ago, the KAF (South Korea’s alpine club) and some outsiders were talking about altering their culture around climbing in order to prevent unnecessary loss of life. This specifically applied to their expeditions to the world’s high profile mountaineering objectives.

On October 17, 2011 Park Young-seok, Gang Gi-seok and Shin Dong-min died — and vanished — shortly after reporting to base camp of significant rock fall on Annapurna (25,545 ft./8,091 m.) Then on November 11, 2011, Kim Hyung-il and Chang Ji-myeong fell to their death attempting a route on Cholatse (21,128 ft./6,440 m.) in the Himalaya. All were KAF alpinists and all were pushing their limits as well as the conventional tolerance for objective risks.

While falling is the inherent objective risk in all climbing, the other high risks are the hazards of rock fall, avalanches and crevasses. The majority of climbers, by contrast — at least from North America — tend to avoid the terrain with the highest risk due to conditions increasing the danger from such hazards. Avalanche awareness and safety training, for example, teaches climbers and other mountain enthusiasts to identify risky areas based on a combination of factors, including slope, weather conditions and so forth. Sometimes avalanche danger is more obvious due to tumbling rocks (its own hazard alone) or frequent releases of snow on neighboring slopes.

As I see it, the South Korean alpine climbing community is facing a challenge on what it considers to be a bold opportunity for achieving success and what is just plain foolish. This is not a new issue. Jonathan Waterman mentions this issue in his guidebook and history book, High Alaska, regarding the another Asian climbing culture, the one in Japan:

Japanese climbers are often willing to justify objective danger, particularly avalanche-prone routes, that other nationalities won’t touch. It has been speculated that this emanates from their traditional enlightened view that life has been predetermined and that there is rebirth after death. Also, as there are many climbers in Japan climbing is more competitive, Japanese climbers must often do outrageous climbs in order to make their names known.

The Japanese climbers known as the Giri Giri Boys spring to mind. Two members of this group died in one of their numerous attempts to push their own and the mountain’s limits, though their accomplishments — particularly on climbs in North America — are genuinely impressive.

As for the crisis in South Korea, the issue is more readily understood by other climbers. There are fundamental risks in the sport. Nonclimbers typically do not understand or are unwilling to accept the risks. That’s fair. But when does the situation with the KAF in that it might be perpetuating a culture of competition that fuels acceptance of unnecessary risk, I don’t know.

A look at the statistics of their previous climbs over time would provide the best insight on whether their conventional approach to big mountains are indeed more hazardous than necessary. Even then, to make a cultural change, they will need a strong leader that can influence the climbers in South Korea to accept the idea that change is needed.

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Source of quote: Waterman, Jonathan, High Alaska: A Historical Guide to Denali, Mount Foraker and Mount Hunter, AAC Press, 2nd Ed. 1996, pp. 177-178.

Colin Haley Versus the Snail

Let me put this time of year in perspective. I’m not referring to the holiday season. This time of year is a little slow for me in the way of climbing news that typically interests me, and maybe you too. With Alaska and the Himalayas, it’s all about winter ascents on Denali, Mount Foraker and Mount Hunter — which are few and far between.

Ordinarily, for those of us geographically limited to North America, the fun is typical winter fun — skiing, snowshoeing, ice climbing, skating, hockey (preferably outdoors) — is all we have. No breaking news from there.

So thank goodness for the Andes, Patagonia and Colin Haley’s progressive climbs! The summer season is on now down there and Haley, as usual, is seizing every moment he has.

Haley and Jorge Ackerman of Bariloche, Argentina, worked the “un-finished” route on the south face of Cerro Standhardt. It was originally attempted by a 1977 British team, but remains a line that hasn’t brought alpinists to the summit.

The photos on his report are quite nice (see link below) but my favorite part of what these guys did was improvise on their objective and still came away with a decent prize. These climbers intended to ascend the O’Neill-Martin route on Cerro Egger. However, conditions were poor; they planned on a rock route, but lingering winter conditions required crampons and tools. Slow advancement and limited supplies made the decision to abandon the attempt clear.

They shifted their energies and efforts on Standhardt. Needless to say, they finished the job on the 1977 south face route — now the Haley-Ackerman 2011 route! They named the completed route El Caracol, meaning the snail, both for the spiral pattern of the snail shell and their weaving route and also because of their slow pace due to some route finding challenges and errors.

So going forward this winter, we’ll be monitoring whether the Russians make a winter ascent in the Karakorum on K2, any projects in Denali National Park, and of course, the attempts in the southern hemisphere. If you hear anything interesting, leave me  comment or shoot me an email. I’ll do the same here.

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Source: “Cerro Standhardt, El Caracol” on December 6, 2011 on Skagit Alpinism, Colin Haley’s blog.

Old, Seasoned Gear, Far Mountains

At long last, the weather is more seasonable. Peaklessburg had 11 days this November over 70 degrees (F). Yesterday morning I wore a jacket and gloves and steam rose off my coffee.

I’m already looking forward to my winter getaway later in Vermont’s Green Mountains and I was making a mental list of what I would pack. It struck me that it’s mostly the same stuff I’ve been packing for winter fun for ten or more years, that I bought primarily as body armor for Adirondack ice climbing and that I now employed for snowshoeing and skiing.

There is the long, old-style shell, the ice climbing gloves bought on discount and the fleece insulation with the old EMS logo getting compressed, but not yet stripped at the knees and elbows. I wondered whether a refresh was in order.

This thought struck me because shortly before Thanksgiving I read 36 — that being issue 36 of Alpinist magazine. I really enjoyed it and already reread my favorite articles and sidebars, like Derek Franz’s fiction piece and Joe Josephson’s history of ice climbing in Hyalite Canyon in Montana. It’s enough to get really excited about the Bozeman Ice Climbing Festival next week!

I also enjoyed perusing through the three catalog inserts 36 came with from Mammut, O.R. and Bent Gate Mountaineering (BMR). For a moment, I was succumbing to the marketing genius and contemplated buying a three-layer Gore Tex hard shell in some bold, bright new color.

Some of you might remember that the popular color for new gear in the late 1990s and the early 2000s was a muted purple. That bright green — like on the jacket that Jimmy Chin zips up in that populist commercial from The North Face — I don’t think was even invented then.

My gear, minus my original shell, does the job of keeping me warm, dry and protected from the wind as appropriate, so from a practical standpoint there is little reason to make serious upgrades. I bought a new shell a couple of years ago that I am reasonably pleased with, but it is not nearly the hardcore climbing shell my original parka was.

Besides, having signed onto the Common Threads initiative recently — which I take seriously — there is no functional need right now to make big changes to what I am putting in the back of my Subaru for Vermont. Perhaps if I was heading for climbing in the Revelation Mountains or the Cirque of the Unclimbables I would get outfitted with brand new layers. Then again, maybe I would just sew patches on the threadbare areas and play up the old, veteran-of-the-hills look.

So, I could definitely use a bit of a refresh at some point. But I might wait until just before I might embarrass Wunderkind one day; I’ll be picking Wunderkind up from school or skating practice in the future wearing some ridiculously muted purple jacket with patches. Yes, that would be the right time.

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The First Flatiron, a Naked Climber and Some Mushrooms

By now you have probably read about the infamous half-naked climber of the First Flatiron. He’s been rescued and he’s been charged with possession of a controlled substance: a mushroom, believe it or not. But the amusement hasn’t stopped there.

This has been a source of light-hearted humor for me in what has been an otherwise hectic week at work. It’s also made me think of controlled substances in wilderness, be it alcohol or drugs.

Immediately I thoughts of David Roberts bringing the “victory brandy” on his Alaskan expeditions spring to mind. (Yes, I know, it’s scary that my mind jumps right into climbing history!) I also think of Jon Kraukauer smoking a joint on the Stikine Ice Cap during his solo trip to Devil’s Thumb. In both instances, there was some regret from enjoying them, mainly brought on from exhaustion and some level of dehydration. Not that there is ever a perfect condition to partake, of course.

Bringing the intoxicant of choice into the wilderness (or the fringe in the case of the First Flatiron,) sounds tempting and really ought to left to a rest day. This “half-naked” climber clearly was not resting. I have this horrible image of Zach Galifianakis (the character Alan) running around the apartment from The Hangover running through my head.

To the half-naked climber, in the future I would recommend doing what I prefer to do: Enjoy the day in the backcountry, only carrying the essential gear, and after completing the route or hike, guzzle some water and go back to town for some pizza and beer.

There are few things as satisfying as those two things! I think you’ll be hard pressed to disagree.

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