Mountain Lit

Mountain Paradox: Peace and Restlessness

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

At long last, I obtained my copy of Mountain, a hefty collection of images from the mountain world by Sandy Hill. I ordered it with the Barnes and Noble gift card from my parents after Christmas; it just arrived on Wednesday.

It’s an amazing coffee table book, both in size and scope. It includes work from Ansel Adams, Victorio Sella, Bradford Washburn and many others, some of which has never been published previously.

Paging through it is quite different than going through my latest issue of Climbing (which I am really getting a lot out of) or reading whatever climbing story, history or guidebook I have listed on my Recommended Reading page. It’s not like going on the Internet and searching page after page for images or Gasherbrum IV or Pangbuk Ri.

It’s a rather peaceful experience, just you and the mountain, one image at a time. In that calm, memories of thoughts, ideas and daydreams from when I was just entering high school return. They’re from when I sat in my aunt’s and uncle’s home during Thanksgiving break paging through an old coffee table book of Asia, including the Himalaya and Karakorum. I was thinking about setting out to be a mountaineer and explorer before I knew what that meant.

With Mountain, like the old Asia book before, it pulls at my restless qualities. As the ideas and thoughts of the climb surface I can’t help but just look. So here I encourage you to go buy it. It supports the American Alpine Club — and association dedicated to fostering climbing and supporting inspiring climbs. And then go climb where you dream about.

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Wilkinson’s Take on Media During the 2008 K2 Tragedy

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

During the holiday break, while enjoying some snowfall in Vermont, I read through Part I of Freddie Wilkinson’s book One Mountain Thousand Summits. I’m further along now, but the first part — first third of the book, really — was not at all what I expected.

In a unique way, Wilkinson covers the 2008 tragedy on K2 where 11 alpinists lost their lives. I was expecting something akin to a play-by-play of the events on the mountain through one of the expedition teams or through interviews looking back. Instead, he reviews critically, and what feels like “real time,” the events that occurred on the mountain and what their family, friends and the public did in reacting to the news on an August weekend. He considered the role of blogs, journalism, sources and the general way information and news was received by the various audiences.

One thing I kept in mind that Wilkinson eludes to — and this is something I have certainly learned to be true while working in government and politics in my nation’s capital city — is that people’s perception of reality is their reality. Also, we are subject to the power of suggestion. This means if someone we believe to be an authority says that there is a reason to worry or be upset about an issue we likely will obey to some degree depending on our level of interest. Knowing this, and that only a handful of surviving climbers from the tragedy came forward to be sources for the media’s reports, the story is told from only their perspective. Collectively, it said mountaineering was a vainglorious endeavor.

This made it easy for the public to be critical of the climb, climbing and the tragedy. It was mere foolishness in life or death proportions. The public was influenced by the pundits and those identified as the subjects on the matter. Even Reinhold Messner and Ed Viesturs fueled, even if unintentionally, the media and public’s criticism.

Wilkinson points out that the shift from climbing as a noble pursuit (such as the first ascent of Mount Everest) to being part of selfish quests started after the 1996 Everest Disaster. This was when it became widely known that the only qualification need to take a stab at Everest was a hired guide and some level of good health. Climbers know — though the public does not universally acknowledge — that the skills and capabilities of guided climbers at that level vary widely but are not necessarily unqualified. (Respect for that style of climbing is a different subject altogether.)

Wilkinson puts the public’s criticism into historical context as well: “Since the polar feuds of the 20th Century, media controversy was an intrinsic part of exploration — but back then, few seriously questioned whether climbing mountains or traversing continents was worth it.” (It’s also notable the Wilkinson covers a lot of ground to make his points, and I have to hand it to him and his editor for having the courage not to retell the full story of each climbing incident he uses as an example. Clearly they recognized that either the resources to pick up the pieces exist or that there is a sophisticated audience — probably a little of both.)

Part I also considers the current context and the reality of what happens but he does so more through previewing his comments for later in Parts II and III. He leaves Part I with what is the informational equivalent of a cliff hanger. Just for the anthropological and social media view, it’s a very worthwhile and insightful read.

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Avalanche Safety and Passion in Snowstruck

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

This past summer, when it was over 100 degrees and muggy here in Peaklessburg, I stayed cool by reading about snow, avalanches and hazards in Alaska. In the spring I picked up Jill Fredston’s book Snowstruck: In the Grip of Avalanches (2005) on a whim and put it on the shelf. After reading it I can say that it won’t spend as much time there as others in my library because I plan to reread it.

Fredston tells the story of her life and her studies of avalanches. It’s a dazzling story of her career along with her husband, another expert, Doug Fesler. Together they are best known for being the authors of Snowsense, a guide for surveying avalanche risk.

I can’t say that I love many books, but this one was full of what I crave presented in a terrific, compelling narrative. Fredston weaves her life story in with the accomplishments of her career along with the science of snow and avalanches, the muddiness of professional relationships, detective work and nonprofit work, all around the cause of preventing future deaths and property damage from avalanches.

My experience with avalanches growing in the northeast were mostly limited to the little ones that slide off roofs, so this story was insightful. For instance, even when I ice climbed in the Adirondacks, spindrift was all I really ever suffered from. In Vermont — where I visit almost every winter — the rescue groups don’t respond to too many avalanches either. Avalanches happened there, but not with the severity and frequncy they occur out west. But, as Fredston explains, the majority of slopes — even at a gentle incline — are built to unleash fury under the right conditions.

Through reading the story you learn about the chances of survival, how the most critical moment for survival is when the lost person in the avalanche is found, and how our own personal psychology can lead us into danger. Fredston also talks about how being swept away in an avalanche is avoidable, how even on commonly tread ground — like Flattop outside of Anchorage, Alaska — has attracted more rescues than elsewhere in the Chugach Range, how avalanche beacons and cell phones are often a false sense of security, among other things. I also found this statistic from Fredston chilling: 71 percent of avalanche victims die on slopes they know.

I was also amused by a moment when her Subaru got stuck on the long driveway to her home. I guess Subaru’s symmetrical all-wheel drive can’t overcome all adversity after all.

She gives you a sense of what the best avalanche experts consider when inspecting slopes, and she does this by telling you the stories of how she and Fesler discovered these issues. Questions like what is the slope? What type of snow is it? When did hoar form? Which way did the wind blow last week? Why does the snow sound hollow here? Is the snow cracking? In all, it comes down to the three factors of snowpack, terrain and weather, often represented in a triangular chart.

Snowstruck is well written, romantic, informative and suspenseful all at once. But above all, it’s about enjoying the adventure of living a life with challenges: “[I]f you are taking no risks, you are dead, and without risk, we might forget that we are alive.”

Thanks again from dropping by. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following The Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

The Ledge: A Review and Daydream of Liberty Ridge

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

I recently finished reading The Ledge: An Adventure Story of Friendship and Survival on Mount Rainier by Jim Davidson and Kevin Vaughan (2011). It’s a very good story about, well, just what the subtitle says.

What it doesn’t say — and only climbers can appreciate it in these terms — is that it’s about a beautiful climb up the legendary Liberty Ridge route and a horrible, fluke accident on the descent that anyone that has crossed a glacier can, at a minimum identify with the fear.

The timing of the release of this book was impeccable for me because I’ve been obsessing over Mount Rainier this past few months. The key event in the book is about how Davidson and his friend and partner Mike Price fell into a deep crevasse and Davidson’s amazing self rescue. The rescue — or rather, the escape — is the central action part of the story and must be read to fully appreciate, so I will say no more. The Ledge‘s theme of friendship gets at the heart of a relationship that can only be forged through challenging adventures like mountaineering. Davidson and Vaughn really honor the memory of Mike Price in this tale.

Aside from themes, the book also provides ample fuel for a mountain daydream of a climb up Mount Rainier’s steep Liberty Ridge on its north face. This route was one that I hoped to climb one day. It has been called an alpine classic by Steve Roper and Allen Steck in Fifty Classic Climbs of North America (1996). Of course, I never thought of an accident happening after an ascent on this route, as happened in the book. It goes to show how many hazards there are up there.

The Liberty Ridge rises from the Carbon Glacier 5,500 feet, separates the 4,000-foot Willis Wall to its eastern flank and the nearly-as-large Liberty Wall to its west. It ascends sustained 55-degree slopes, not including brief steeper portions to get around Thumb Rock (10,760 ft.) The route turns to exclusively snow and hard ice up toward Black Pyramid (12,400). The ridge meets the Liberty Cap Glacier at 13,000 feet, where the summit (14,410 ft.), Colombia Crest, is reachable.

Davidson and Vaughn make the climb sound sublime and challenging for an experienced climber. I recommend reading the book for this part alone, and to learn about Davidson’s and Price’s surprise bivy location over the Liberty Wall — that’s actually something I’d like to duplicate, though I probably wouldn’t do so intentionally either.

Overall, The Ledge is a very good story to enjoy whether you’re a climber, an armchair mountaineer, or are fascinated by human perseverance. You can’t go wrong.

Thanks for dropping by again, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Sources: 1) Davidson, Jim and Kevin Vaughn, The Ledge: An Adventure Story of Friendship and Survival on Mount Rainier, Ballantine Books, 2011; 2) Roper, Steve and Allen Steck, Fifty Classic Climbs of North America, Sierra Club, 1996; and 3) Gauthier, Mike, Mount Rainier: A Climbing Guide, The Mountaineers, 1999.

No Shortcuts to the Top: A Review

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

I’ve got a confession. I was introduced to climbing by the fifth Star Trek movie when Captain Kirk attempted to free soloed El Cap before nearly falling to his death. But growing up in snowy Upstate New York and hiking and climbing the winter wonderland of the Adirondacks gave me a flavor for alpine ascents, not big walls. Being introduced to the American climbing icon Ed Viesturs nudged me further along. I can’t remember when I first learned of Viesturs, but it was before the Imax movie Everest, where he played a leading role, was released.

Viesturs became well known among American climbers for his Endeavor 8,000 project where he became the first American to summit all 14 of the world’s 8,000 meter peaks without the use of supplemental oxygen in over an eleven year quest that concluded in 2005. In 2006, Viesturs and David Roberts, author of climbing classic Mountain of My Fear, combined efforts to tell Viesturs life story and his journey to the top of the Himalayas in No Shortcuts to the Top: Climbing the World’s 14 Highest Peaks.

Overall this autobiography tells the reader more about the things that compel Viesturs fans to follow him. He is known for his phrase, “Getting to the top is optional, getting down is mandatory,” which is odd to come from a well known climbing celebrity. Often climbers are thought of as risk takers. Instead, Viesturs book shows how he has actually been risk adverse and still been successful in the mountains.

The book was exactly what a fan of “Steady Eddy” like me wanted. It explained how Viesturs climbed at the level he did and addressed the challenge of the mountains from Mount Rainier, to the highest peaks of the Himalayas. First, Viesturs’ physiology is above average and explains the science behind his ability to grab more oxygen from thin air. Viesturs also shares his firm belief in being self reliant in the mountains, including listening to one’s gut: If something doesn’t feel right, listen to it and turn around. It was this second part that both kept him out of danger and delayed success in Endeavor 8,000 by several years.

People are also interested in his family. Despite the risks he takes and the expeditions he goes on for months at a time, he maintains what appears to be a strong family unit. He also talks about that, including intimate details about how he and his wife Paula met and having children.

In his belief of self-sufficient climbing, Viesturs and his partners – for the most part – have embraced the alpine style of climbing. He talks about sharing gear to pack lighter and also what he puts on his rack for various ascents.

Comparing Viesturs to progressive alpinists like Steve House is like comparing an Ice Road Trucker to the Stig from Top Gear. It’s just unfair. Viesturs approach, goals and tolerance for risk is different. But it is that contrast that makes him appealing, especially to the casual or even average mountaineer.

The book Viesturs produced with Roberts is worth the purchase and read. In fact, I have two copies. One for myself with some penciled notes and another to lend out to friends.

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Two Mountaineering Classics by David Roberts

/ Andrew Szalay / Leave a comment

When I visited Alaska, I did two things everyone else does when they go: I hiked up Flattop Mountain outside of Anchorage and took in Denali. I did a lot more than that, but it was taking in the view of a lesser peak southwest of Big Mac that I really wanted to see! Through my binoculars I saw Mount Huntington (12,240 ft / 3,731 m). To me, it’s almost mythical.

Mount Huntington was first climbed in 1964 by French alpinist Lionel Terray of the Annapurna first ascent team. It’s also one of the most beautifully formed peaks in the Alaska Range. But what puts it on the map of mountaineering lore are the events that mountaineer and author David Roberts captures in his first book, The Mountain of My Fear, originally published in 1968.

The story tells of the second ascent of the mountain including the planning and the relationships with his teammates. The story focuses on the eerie event on the descent when the team of four split up. Roberts and partner Ed Bernd rapped down but in a flash, Bernd vanished with only a spark in the night, undoubtedly falling to the Tokositna Glacier. Due to the separation and the incoming storms Roberts endured five days alone in a lower camp. It sounds simple, but Roberts has a way of articulately saying what was in his mind and connecting the hearts of other climbers, which is what makes it such a great read!

Roberts explains in his autobiographical book, On the Ridge Between Life and Death: A Climbing Life Reexamined (2005), that Roberts wrote the manuscript for The Mountain of My Fear in one fantastic push. It was mainly an exercise in therapy. The apropos title comes from the poem “The Climbers” by W.H. Auden.

The experience on Mount Huntington was actually the second of two epic adventures in Alaska that Roberts was among the primary architects. The other was when he and Don Jensen planned to make the first ascent of Mount Deborah (12,339 ft/3,761 m). The peak has an enormous prominence among the other features surrounding it and it is remote. Sometime after writing his first book, Roberts wrote Deborah: A Wilderness Narrative (1970). While Roberts thinks it is the literary of the two, most readers feel it is far dryer. I disagree.

Deborah is not as profound and moving as The Mountain of My Fear, it is like many other climbing stories about flying into the mountains, climbing, struggling in alpine style, and trudging out of the backcountry. It’s actually a worthy model for a lot of those of us planning a grand ascent. The drama of the story, and what makes it somewhat a downer, is that even before Roberts departed for Alaska, he knew his heart was not in this expedition and certainly not committed to Jensen as he ought to be.

The Mountaineers Books published both of these works in one volume in 1991. I bought my copy in the Denali National Park gift shop; I hadn’t even seen it on my local bookstore shelves back home. I’ve read both twice and return to them periodically. I recommend reading both in gulps rather than sips. Their worth the purchase and certainly the time.

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