The New Guidebook Finder and the AAC Library Team

Hi, everybody! Back in July, our friends at the American Alpine Club asked me to preview their Guidebook Finder before it went public. Well I geeked out, tried it out and told them what I thought. Then they came back to me a couple of weeks ago to ask if I could do a guest post on Inclined, their blog. (Click here to check it out.)

The AAC Guidebook Finder is the latest search engine tool for the American Alpine Club Henry S. Hall, Jr. Library. It’s like a card catalog through a map. Go to your destination and click for the guidebooks for that area. It’s brilliant!

However, I feel a little guilty. Really. If my big idea in the guest post is implemented it will mean a lot more work for the library staff.

Let me tell you about the folks that made the Guidebook Finder the fantastic tool it is: First off, it was made possible by funding from Yvon Chouinard’s own Patagonia, which seems to contribute to a lot of things near and dear to me. Next, the whole library team, lead by Beth Heller with Alex Depta, managed the feedback and processed the requests. (Book checkouts have increased substantially since the Guidebook Finder was launched!) I also have to mention the person that brought the technical knowledge to connect the Library’s database with Google Maps. It was tedious work, but it wasn’t too mundane for Hale Melnick, who was an AAC intern at the time. He’s presently fighting another good battle with our other friends at the Access Fund.

So this should go without saying, but the library needs your help. The programs are funded through a variety of means, primarily membership dues and financial contributions. I made a modest contribution to the Library a short while ago, and I hope you will too. Giving says that you value the collections, the time the staff takes to find your books, log them in and out, pack them up, mailing them and being available to help with your research questions. Even if you have a good climbing library at home, nothing beats the holdings and the knowledgeable staff at the AAC Library. Also, the gifts are tax deductible.

Beth, I’ll write you guys another check soon — as an apology.

On a totally different topic, I’m happy to report that my training routine is becoming a habit! I’ve heard that if you keep something going consistently for over 21 days that it’s easier to keep going much longer. If that’s true I should be on my way of working out through the year, including running in a 10K this spring and participate in that wacky Stowe Derby — the cross country ski race — next winter. I’m sure Mount Mansfield will have snow next year… Right?

Well, thanks for dropping by once again. If you enjoyed this post, please consider following the Suburban Mountaineer on Facebook or Twitter. Happy reading and carpe climb ’em!

Is Climbing Selfish?

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The Creek. (All rights reserved)

One line from One Mountain Thousand Summits by Freddie Wilkinson — the second part of this next sentence — has had me thinking during my early morning runs about the old question, is climbing selfish? Wilkinson writes, “Since the polar feuds of the 20th Century, media controversy was an intrinsic part of exploration [including mountaineering] — but back then, few seriously questioned whether climbing mountains or traversing continents was worth it.”

People question whether our sport is worthwhile quite frequently today. Discouraging banter about whether adventures are valid pursuits usually follows tragedy — like the 1996 Everest disaster, 2008 loss of life on K2 or the 2011 season on Denali — hits the mainstream media. Or if it hits hard at home because a loved one was hurt, fell, or worse.

Playing Our Game

I used to urge critics of recreational adventure to  consider whether any athletic game or endeavor is. Playing baseball, for instance, seems beyond question unselfish because spectators can take in a game and the fans consider professional players (and even some amateurs) as entertainers. At least it is beyond question insofar as nobody thinks to attack it the way climbing sometimes is criticized, largely due to the danger. Deaths are rarely reported in the outfield.

Climbing, has been historically niche or at least private affairs, except for well-sponsored expeditions driving for the biggest objectives. Expeditions to attempt 8,000 meter peaks in the 1950s and 60s were well publicized, meanwhile work being done in Alaska at the same time was underground. The smaller rock walls in New England were climbed by climbers and it mattered only to other climbers.

Do we need nonclimbers to care or respect our pursuits and accomplishments to avoid being labeled selfish? I don’t think so, but the questions are largely questions of values and public relations. Climbing — particularly alpine mountaineering — is among the last types of exploration-type adventure in our day and age.

It’s All Fun and Games Until…

But going deeper and asking whether our climbing or any outdoor action-sport adventure is fundamentally selfish means we have to look at the people around us. Our friends. Our family. The ones that love us. They are all going to have a different opinion. When we are hurt, sometimes it’s harder on the people that love us. Our moms. Our spouses. Our kids.

Of course, we’re talking about recreational adventure here. There are people that are forced into adventures as part of their life due to natural disasters, war, and health challenges in a region. I think even general eviction and family stability issues might even qualify. I’m probably missing examples. While you and I go outside into the unknown to glean something for our soul, others are having similar and graver situations — hmm — minister to their soul unwillingly, shall we say.

Further, there are a lot of horrible things that could “get us,” from crossing the street, to unspeakable violence. Is going to the market or school worth it? That goes without saying. Is going to the ballgame? Or the movies? Climbing and outdoors adventures are at least driven by excitement and challenge; it’s not a chore, an errand, or an obligation. We could stay home, but we think the adventure is worthy of leaving the safety of our home and everyday routine.

Now to the point of selfishness, it’s not our opinion of whether it’s selfish that counts. I think most of those closest to us give us allowance or keep their fears of us being hurt (or worse) to themselves because they know that we enjoy the game. We feed off the energy from the sport.

So, no. I don’t ultimately believe climbing itself is selfish. It’s the agreement, spoken or unspoken, with the people who care about us that matters. They determine whether your adventure is antics or part of some noble quest.

Climb for the right reasons. Be honest with the people that love you. Maybe it’ll spare some grief and bring you closer in the process. Isn’t that important too?

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

This post was modified slightly on April 20, 2016.

Golgotha, Middle Peak and Wild Alaska

Earlier this week, I saw that the Mugs Stump Grant recipients for 2012 were announced. News like this is more than a headline; it’s a chance for us to live vicariously through some current, bold alpinists. Seven projects were awarded but the Alaskan expeditions drew my attention.

One recipient is a team focused on Golgotha in the Revelation Mountains.  Clint Helander, Scotty Vincik, and Mark Westman will tackle its east face. The other recipient is a team heading to the Saint Elias Range to climb the west face of Middle Peak. That team is composed of Dave Burdick, John Frieh and Zac West. Their objective doesn’t have as dramatic a name as Golgotha, but that really doesn’t matter either; it’s challenge more than makes up for its utilitarian name.

Mountaineering is an amazing sport (yes, it is a sport,) and as the long list of 2012 grant recipients shows, the scope is literally global. North America is my home and Alaska (and to some extent British Colombia and Alberta) are my favorite, mountain-wise. Living in an urban area where everyone craves the beaches of southern Florida, Alaska is plenty exotic. I love the history of the Alaska Range, the rugged, remote allure of the Revelations and the wilderness of the Saint Elias Range.

The Revelations were first visited by one of the Harvard Mountaineering Club veterans and writer, David Roberts. He and his team chose biblical end-of-times inspired names for the mountains they saw, such as The Angel and, of course, the unclimbed Golgotha. Roberts recently said in a recent issue of Climbing that he had been saving it on his personal tick list, and only recently did he feel comfortable telling everyone else about it. I wonder if this inspired this expedition? It made me contemplate grabbing my crampons and buying a plane ticket.

The Saint Elias Range was a blank on the Alaskan/Canadian map until National Geographic sent Bradford Washburn and a team of climbers to draw one up the old fashioned way — getting down on the ground, walking the glaciers and finding what lay between the peaks. Despite it being mapped — like everywhere else these days (sigh) — it’s the experience of the hike, the climb, the conditions our responses and our mental state that really create the explorer’s world today.

I wish the teams very good luck!

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Sources: 1) Alpinist Newswire; 2) Roberts, David, On the Ridge Between Life and Death, Simon and Schuster, 2005; 3) Roberts, David, The Last of His Kind, HarperCollins, 2009.

Mountain Drool: Mother’s Charm Box and the Yeti

Ama Dablam (22,349 ft./6,812 m.) is widely photographed. Mountaineering  guide services even promote commercial alpine climbing expeditions to those aspiring to climb the peak. So in many ways the mountain has become familiar, unexciting and even bland. But there was time, when it lacked a lot of context, that it was exotic.

The first time I saw a picture of this peak with the serac dripping from its summit was in an advertisement for The North Face. I later saw it again in a magazine’s photo spread of a hike into Everest basecamp, so I knew it had to be in the Khumbu Valley. I didn’t know it’s name for years but I later learned that it was Ama Dablam, which mean’s Mother’s Charm Box or Mother’s Necklace.

The peak was first climbed in 1961 by Mike Gill and Wally Romanes of New Zealand, Mike Ward of the United Kingdom and Barry Bishop of the United States. This climb stands out in history for two reasons. It was the first Himalayan summit topped out in winter. It’s even more curious for another reason, other than the time of year: The climbing team was part of a larger expedition, led by Sir Edumund Hillary. It was called The World Book Encylopedia Scientific Expedition.

Among the expedition’s scientific goals (like the studying the effects of altitude) was to search for evidence of the “Abominable Snowman” or Yeti. Perhaps I should have put the word scientific in quotes. While that goal was likely to drive public interest, there was a genuine interest in whether sasquatch’s cousin (a.k.a. Bigfoot) did in fact exist. Even today, some people are still searching for sasquatch. At the time, there was evidence that allegedly pointed to the Yeti’s existence — footprints, skins and scalps.

The findings on the Yeti are mostly irrelevant today, but it does remind me of a more romantic time. When beasts unknown lurked in caves and even under beds, and when mountains didn’t have names — they were just beautiful and tempting. And when adventure was in being the first.

Cheers to Ama Dablam, to eveyone who has summited and those of us that just dream about it.

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Sources: 1962 American Alpine Journal

Wilkinson’s Take on Media During the 2008 K2 Tragedy

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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New Years Resolutions and Fitness

When Edelweiss and I brought Wunderkind home from the hospital this past year we were joyful with a joy unlike any we’ve ever experienced. As she grew bigger I realized how pathetically out of shape I was. Carrying her pushed my muscles to their limits. My pride in my aerobic activity — walking two miles per day five days per week — did nothing to make my upper body prepared for the modest labor of being the family work horse carrying Wunderkind, groceries and so forth.

I thought about living with the pain. It comes only late at night in one strained back muscle. I get up, ice it and go back to sleep and forget about it. I could even get a little reading done during that late hour. Going about my day at work and with the family I don’t think too much about it. After all, once Wunderkind grows older, I won’t be picking her up so much, right?

My physical condition hasn’t mattered so much to me since college when I hiked and climbed frequently — at that time I was running seven miles four days per week and pressing a decent amount. Now, sleeping well at night — free from back the infrequent pain — isn’t my real goal, though it would be nice. My doctor said it can be overcome but I’ve got a long way to go since the strain can’t get a chance to rest and heal.

What this has come down to is asking myself, what does it take to make a new year’s resolution stick? What do I do to make some behavioral changes, since a healthy lifestyle is fundamentally a learned habit?

This is what I’ve found over the last few months of fighting my way to better health. It’s a hodgepodge of advice organized how it makes sense to me. I’ve got my own personal goals, which involves some modest climbing and cross country skiing, but those aren’t important. I hope these help as you figure out what motivates you to keep the new year’s fitness resolution:

Define Your Goal — For me, it’s just to carry Wunderkind and sleep through the night, but that’s hardly a measurable physical objective. Be specific. Pick a climb, sign up for an expedition or work to achieve the abs of the 300 Workout by Mark Twight.

Set Milestones — I made some reasonable goals for 2 weeks, 1 month, 6 months and a year. The benchmarks I set measured such things as the number of push ups and how long I should be able to hang from the chin up bar for isometric exercise.

Identify a Fitness Reward — This might be your overall objective, but for me it will likely be some time at the climbing wall — something I never take the time to do.

Focus on Goals and Seek Knowledge — Keep your fitness objective in perspective and on your mind. Use gimmicks like a chart or calendar with special stickers or change your computer and email passwords all to terms related to your target to keep it on the forefront of your mind. Also, be sure to continuously seek new information on proper techniques on what exercises you’re doing.

Seek Inspiration from Fitness Gurus and Your Heroes — Immerse yourself in the knowledge of your fitness goals through the things that excite you about it. If you’re climbing Denali, put up a photo, read accounts of it, and learn from those alpinists that have gone before you and find out what they did to train. If you’re goal is to climb a Colorado 14er this summer, you can get inspiration from those that climbed Annapurna, but be sure to calibrate the lesson for your needs.

All of this is getting at the idea of seeking the right mental state and create a favorable workout environment. Steve House recently talked about distractions. He said things can get in his head, like the TV show he just watched or a song. They distract as he’s climbing. So to climb better, he “subtracts” (his term) from his life at key points to help ensure his head is ready to focus and commit to the objective.

If you have any thoughts or improvements to suggest on this, let me know by leaving a comment or shooting me an email.

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