Climbing Days

Climbing Days, by Dan Richards, is an exploration of the writing and climbing feats of his great great aunt and uncle Dorothy Pilley and IA Richards. The book borrows its title from Dorothy’s own 1935 memoir Climbing Days which chronicled the pair’s pioneering climbs during the 1920s - including the first ascent of the North Ridge of Dent Blanche.

While vaguely aware of his relations’ reputation - IAR was an influential 20th century literary figure - it wasn’t until Dan came across Pilley’s writing that he discovered the extent of their climbing achievements.

Rather than a conventional biography, the book is Dan’s attempt to understand the pair by retracing some of their steps. He travels to Wales, the Lake District, and learns to climb himself in order to make an ascent of the Dent Blanche.

This is a highly enjoyable book, full of fascinating detail, that has sent me off in search of the original. Read how reviewers greeted it back in 1935.

Manchester Guardian, 29 May 1935.

An advert for the book appeared in the Observer on 19 May 1935.

Observer, 19 May 1935.

The BMC - British Mountaineering Council's 70th anniversary

The British Mountaineering Council (BMC) has been celebrating its 70th birthday throughout 2014. The idea of an umbrella group to link disparate climbing clubs and associations was conceived by Geoffrey Winthrop-Young at the turn of the century but it wasn't until the 1940s that his idea began to receive a sympathetic hearing.

The Standing Advisory Committee on Mountaineering (SACOM) was created in 1943 and the following year Winthrop-Young, then president of The Alpine Club, was successful in bringing about a motion to create the BMC. It was formed in December 1944, in part to provide mountaineering advice to the wartime authorities.

The press - or at least the Manchester Guardian - reported the setting up of the council in August 1945.

The Manchester Guardian, 7 August 1945

One of the BMC's initial concerns was the "Collection of climbing information from 'here and abroad' and to investigate scientifically the value of new equipment and how to procure it." By 1947, as the following piece illustrates, it was becoming recognised as the agency to discuss matters such as belay technique.

The Manchester Guardian, 21 July 1947

Olympic medals and Everest

The debate over whether climbers and mountaineers should compete for medals in organised events has been going on for decades. In the mid-1970s there was furious opposition from British climbers to a USSR suggestion that the sport should be part of the Olympics (see end of article), but more latterly there has been some excitement that ice climbing will be a cultural event at the 2014 winter games - not to mention climbing being considered for the main Olympics in 2020.

Against this background, the Mount Everest Foundation recently organised a discussion, Race to the Top - What place does competition have in the mountains?, at the Royal Geographical Society.

The starting point for the evening was Kenton Cool's talk about his expedition to take a 1924 Olympic Gold Medal for Alpinism to the summit of Everest. Following the success 1922 assault on the mountain in which the team got to within 500 metres of the top, the International Olympic Committee decided to mark the achievement by awarding medals to all 21 members of the team. The presentation was made at the 1924 Winter Olympic Games and Edward Strutt, deputy leader of expedition, vowed to return to Everest and leave one of the medals at the summit.  However, by that time a number of the climbers were already on their way back to Tibet for another attempt at the mountain and the promise remained unfulfilled. Cool finally honoured the pledge in May 2012 by taking a medal that had belonged to Dr Arthur Wakefield, the oldest member of the group, to get to the top.

Manchester Guardian, 6 February 1924

It was an exciting and enthusiastic talk, illustrated with dramatic film footage of Cool's ascent. While a cynic might suggest the whole medal business was just an excuse to make another adventure film, set in the context of the excitement surrounding the 2012 Olympics, and the heroic story of George Mallory and the climbing pioneers of the 1920s, the whole exercise seemed to make perfect sense.

Why people actually want to go up mountains was explored by Sir Chris Bonington. One of the key differences with other sports, he said, is the element of risk. Bonington gave the example of the 1977 Ogre expedition where, despite Doug Scott having to crawl down the mountain due to breaking both legs above the ankles, and suffering broken ribs himself, there was a certain exhilaration of just being where they were, high on the mountain. He also showed a rare 1970 interview with Dougal Haston and Don Whillans on Annapurna. Asked why he climbed, Whillans said it was partly to do with the fact that as a tradesman, he liked to do a job well. This 'practical' approach, he contrasted with his climbing partner's 'intellectual' approach. Haston claimed the attraction of the sport was the opportunity of being in charge of your own world. Both were valid points but Bonington admitted that climbers can be very egotistical, wanting recognition from their peers.

Graham Tiso, Peak Lenin, 1974

The danger of climbing for more than just peer recognition was explored by Doug Scott. In 1974 he was invited to take part in an International climbing camp in the Pamirs, at the invitation of the Russian Mountaineering Federations. The purpose of the gathering was in part due to the Russians' wish to promote high altitude climbing as part of the Olympic Games. Unfortunately eight women climbers from the host nation died near the summit of Peak Lenin. Apart from being badly equipped, they were under pressure to succeed which may well have led to them making the wrong decisions high up on the mountain. (A Scottish team was also invited to the camp).

If Olympic medals were indeed to be awarded for mountaineering achievement, Sandy Allan and Rick Allen would be in line for the gold. Earlier this year they conquered the Mazeno ridge on Nanga Parbat – one or the last great climbs in the Himalayas. Their story can be read in this Observer piece.

The panel discussion included the speakers plus Lindsay Griffin and Phil Bartlett, and chaired by Ed Douglas. It soon became clear that two strands of the sport were being debated: organised competitions on artificial walls, and serious ascents at high altitude. The general consensus appeared to be that it is fine to make awards after the event - such as the Piolets d'Or or indeed something like the 1924 medals - but pointless, if not impossible to operate and very dangerous if designed to get people to 'race to the top'. It was also mentioned that such awards usually come from outside the sport, not the actual practioners.

There was also agreement, or at least a tolerance in some quarters, that there is no harm in the organised climbing competition. Kenton Cool though did make a strong case, citing the fact that with 'mountaineering' being one of only four sports in the UK to show an increase in participation, it should be in the Olympics. If nothing else it would raise the profile and attract sponsorship. Apart from that though, as anyone who has ever watched such an event will know, they can be incredibly exciting, and easily on a par with many other Olympic sports. As an example, Ed Douglas urged the audience to take a look at  footage of British climber Fran Brown, Paraclimbing world champion.

The event was held to raise money for the Mount Everest Foundation and Community Action Nepal.

The Guardian, 29 October 1976:

Climbing and base jumping

Perhaps it was because I recently saw Leo Holding's The Asgard Project, but the following story caught my eye in the Observer archive. Holding and his team scaled Mount Asgard, a 2,000-metre high tower of granite in a remote glacial region of Baffin Island in Arctic Canada, and then two of them made a wingsuit descent from the summit.

George Felbermayr's adventure wasn't quite as dramatic but it was a surprise to discover that people were making such descents after serious climbs, nearly 50 years ago. 

More about the Edge of the Impossible article mentioned in the caption.

Blue plaque for Edward Whymper

Edward Whymper has become the first mountaineer to be commemorated with an English Heritage blue plaque. One hundred years after his death, the Teddington home of the first man to climb the Matterhorn now boasts one of the unique design icons. The plaque was unveiled by Mick Fowler, president of the Alpine Club - the great organisation of which Whymper was a prominent member. 

It was on July 14 1865, after eight attempts, that Whymper finally made it to the top of the mountain. However, on the descent four members of the party were dragged to their deaths, as reported in the Manchester Guardian on July 21 1865:

This provoked a scandal with claims that the rope had been cut and there was even talk of Queen Victoria suggesting that mountaineering should be outlawed. Whymper was haunted by the deaths and he later wrote in Scrambles Amongst the Alps "I see my comrades of the Matterhorn slipping in their backs, their arms outstretched, one after the other". But not everyone blamed him for the accident as shown by the following article which appeared in the paper a week later:

Read about Whymper's London here.

Not to be sold separately: The Observer Colour Magazine 1964-1995

Not to be sold separately: The Observer Colour Magazine 1964-1995, is a new exhibition at Kings Place that celebrates the influence of the paper's magazine on British newspaper publishing. Launched on September 6 1964, the magazine was to combine the best of the Observer's own editorial staff with freelancers, aiming to compete with the Sunday Times magazine (launched in 1962) and titles such as Life and Paris Match. Photojournalism featured heavily on the pages and an introduction to the exhibition states "At a time when most art galleries did not show photographs, the magazine played pivotal role." Subjects covered in the exhibition include everything from punk rock, the new universities being built in the 1960s to Gypsies, with work by the likes of Don McCullin, Jane Bown and Ian Berry.

As shown in Those Who Dared passim, the magazine also published numerous essays on mountaineering and the outdoors. As well as an interview with Tryggve Gran, the only Norwegian member of Captain Scott's South Pole team, there was the famous 1965 Al Avarez article about the climber, Peter Crew. A few years later Crew wrote a detailed account, with pictures by Leo Dickinson, about the first ascent of North Gaulton Castle, a sea stack found on Orkney's west mainland (September 6 1970).

It is another Dickinson picture that has been chosen for the exhibition - this time a stunning shot from the north face of the Eiger. The words are by Michael Deakin, producer of a Yorkshire TV programme about the climb (directed and filmed by Dickinson and Cliff Phillips). The article appeared on December 5 1970.

What makes Not to be sold separately a unique exhibition is that this is the first time many of the images have been seen since publication. Unlike the rest of the paper, the Observer Magazine hasn't been digitised, nor is there an index. Read more about the magazine archive here.

Aleister Crowley and Gilles de Rais

Put Aleister Crowley into an article and you can usually guarantee something of interest. Whether it’s about occultism, the Led Zeppelin connection or his mountaineering exploits, the so called ‘wickedest man in the world’ generates a good tale. Of course many dismiss him as a self-deluded charlatan but there’s no denying, as the latest Footless Crow posting shows, that in his youth Crowley was a bold and talented mountaineer. The blog reprints a Robin Cambell piece that originally appeared in Mountain magazine.

As ever, I was interested to see what contemporaneous news reports had to say about the man. Following the Guardian Book of Mountains thesis that at the beginning of the 20th century the Manchester Guardian was the paper of record for all things climbing, I was expecting at least something on the 1905 Kangchenjunga expedition. Unfortunately there was little apart from a few mentions. There were though some amusing reports of court cases, plus the following story about Crowley being banned from talking about the 15th century poet Gilles de Rais at Oxford University. Perhaps it was a quiet news day but the issue was thought important enough to warrant a leader column in the paper on February 4 1930. (Click images to enlarge)

Climbing Everest: Noble adventure or Selfish Pursuit?

Climbers who make the pilgrimage to Everest may claim that they're transcending the stresses of daily life in the city, but life at the mountain's Base Camp is as bitchy and competitive as any office across the globe. So say Gülnur Tumbat and Russell W. Belk in Marketplace Tensions in Extraordinary Experiences, to be published in the Journal of Consumer Research.

With many climbers paying as much as £40,000 for the pleasure of trying to get up the mountain, the authors conclude: “Our study finds that extraordinary experiences, when bought in the marketplace, can be destructive of feelings of camaraderie and reinforce an individualistic and competitive ethos that I, the climber, am the only one who matters”.

Plenty of books (see Michael Kodas's High Crimes, for example) and articles have been written about the often tense atmosphere around Base Camp, but this probably the first in-depth sociological study into the people who feel the urge to go there.

Albert Smith and the Ascent of Mont Blanc

The December issue of Climb features an interview with Sir Chris Boninington. There are a number of good questions to which Britain's most successful mountaineer provides, as always, some honest answers. In response to the inevitable observation that he was the first ever professional climber, Bonington replies:

"No, not all. Not many people will remember John Smith, who in the 1860s hired a theartre in London and put on a show about climbing Mont Blanc that ran for a whole month. Queen Victoria even came!"

I'm sure he means Albert Smith who in the autumn of 1851 made a guided ascent of Mont Blanc. On March 15 1852 at the Egyptian Hall, in London's Piccadilly, the former doctor produced 'The Ascent of Mont Blanc', a magic lantern show delivered in front of painted mountain scenes. Smith recounted the climb, interspersing it with humorous sketches of his fellow-travellers and topical songs. He even had St Bernard dogs carrying chocolate to the audience and employed showgirls dressed as Alpine handmaidens. Naturally the enthralled punters could purchase merchandise such as books, sheets of illustrations and even mountain-themed fans. The show was incredibly successful and was to run for a number of years. It also made Smith very wealthy. As the Manchester Guardian pointed out (below) Smith was making £6,000 a year, roughly quarter of million pounds in today's money.

Despite the razzmatazz, the Mont Blanc show gave impetus to the growing interest in mountain travel and exploration, that was to develop into the so-called Golden Age of Alpine climbing.

(Manchester Guardian, November 26 1856. Click to enlarge)

Walter Bonatti

The Mountains of My Life by Walter Bonatti regularly makes it on to top-ten lists of mountaineering books. A collection of the Italian climber's classic writings on everything from his epic 1955 solo route on the Petit Dru in the French Alps to controversy on the slopes of K2, the year before. Penguin have just republished a translation of the book and the sprightly 80-year-old recently spoke to the Guardian about his life.

Bonatti is one of the 20th century's greatest alpinists so, as I've been asked on a number of occasions, why he didn't make it into the Guardian Book of Mountains? The simple answer is that his exploits just weren't reported in the paper. The vagaries of the newspaper business can mean that sometimes mountain triumphs end up being relegated to little more than a small paragraph.

However, with the Guardian piece reminding me of Bonatti's many triumphs, I double-checked the Guardian's archive to see if I'd missed something. When I compiled the book, the paper hadn't been digitised so the only way to search was by way of the old card index and then trying to find the piece on microfilm. This method certainly threw up some interesting material but inevitably a number events just didn't get noted.

After scouring the digital archive, apart from a few news in briefs, I still didn't come up with much. The following item though, which did make it to the front page on August 30 1961, does capture the essence of the man:

Because It's There

Because It's There was a one-evening exploration of what mountains represent to humanity, held at the Royal Geographical Society. A tall order, but over three hours various speakers touched on everything from why people climb, fear, women and mountaineering, the commercialisation of Everest expeditions to is true adventure still possible?

The first part of the programme consisted of four short talks. Journalist Ed Douglas began by looking at the relationship between the media and mountaineers. This has changed since the days of Arthur Hinks, then secretary of the Mount Everest Committee, who attempted to stifle all publicity relating to the Everest attempts of the 1920s, and who found that ‘All these questions of dealing with the newspapers are personally very distasteful to me'. On the 1953 British Everest expedition, Jan Morris (then James) used a pre-arranged code to ensure the Times got their Hillary/Tenzing exclusive.

Now climbers are blogging and writing on the mountain, often in real-time. One consequence of this is that media hails those that can write as the best climbers, while the true stars and innovators often go unnoticed.

Louise Turner talked about her long mountaineering career and how the real adventure often begins when the unexpected happens. However, she was very clear that she enjoyed living, not dying, and thus didn't take unnecessary risks.

Peter Baily then presented a meditation on what you can learn about yourself when you're in the mountains - the relationship between the the body, mind and emotions. He's as interested in the spiritual benefits of interacting with the landscape, as the physical exertion of getting to the summit. He illustrated this with a line from Walter Bonatti's The Mountains of My Life where the Italian climber states "it was solo climbing, above all, that let me enter into the spirit of the mountains and so come to recognize my own true nature". Finally, photographer Alexandre Buisse explained how the best photographs often come about in situations when you don't really want to be hanging around adjusting camera equipment.

The author and mountaineer Stephen Venables made the keynote speech. This was an inspiring romp through many of his expeditions, but he concluded that adventure doesn't always have to take place in the most inaccessible places.

The second part of the evening was the debate, Has Everest killed the true spirit of adventure? With a strong panel, it looked like being an exciting session. All agreed that climbing on the mountain had opened up new vistas, both in their climbing and non climbing lives. Kenton Cool, who has been to the Everest summit eight times, warned that you should never take it for granted. Meanwhile, Doug Scott talked about the importance of his 'apprenticeship' on the mountains of Scotland the Alps, before venturing into the higher reaches of the Himalaya. He also pointed out that there were more unclimbed than climbed mountains in Nepal - adventure for anyone who seeks it.

All of the panellists, with their anecdotes, tales and great experiences, made for exciting listening. However, the debate only occasionally came close to answering the main question. In many ways a well moderated online discussion might have revealed more. Nevertheless, it was a stimulating evening and pictures of the event can be seen here.

Finally, mention must be made of the complimentary King's Ginger that was available during the break. The drink of 'sporting gentlemen and high-spirited ladies', no doubt it was also taken on expeditions. Despite being often thought of as a winter drink, I've noticed that people have started sipping it in the warmer months (at least in South London they have). No mention in Double Measures, but this piece from the Observer's celebrated wine writer (December 17 1967) explains all:

The BBC Archive and exploration

The BBC Archive is a collection of 12 million artefacts including 600,000 hours of television content and 350,000 hours of radio, not to mention thousands of documents and photographs, built up over 80 years of broadcasting. Now, a small part of it has been made available through BBC Archive. Collections, range from a series of programmes about the Berlin Wall, apartheid, to playing Shakespeare's Hamlet.

What about exploration? Well, there is section on the moon landings, but little else - at least for now. However, I did come across a radio feature on Chris Bonington, the mountaineer who is probably best known for leading the British 1975 Everest 'The Hard Way' expedition up the mountain's south-west face. In a programme recorded in 1988, Bonington recalls the significant expeditions and places in his life while climbing on Goat Crag in the English Lake District.

Bonington features a number of times in The Guardian Book of Mountains, including The Social Climber, an in-depth interview with him from March 1973. At the time he was promoting The Next Horizon, the second volume of his autobiography, and was well on his way to becoming a household name. His study is described as being full of all "the latest in audio-visual equipment," an indication that the former tank commander was one of the first, and probably most successful, mountaineers to use writing and lecturing to fund their sport.

What is often forgotten amidst all the tales of mountaineering exploits is that during the mid 1960s, Bonington was an adventure journalist, writing and photographing expeditions such as John Blashford-Snell's attempt to make the first ever descent of the Blue Nile, in 1968. Many of these stories later appeared in the best-selling Quest for Adventure, a very good collection that aimed, as he put it in the introduction, to explore 'The what and the why of adventure', as well as 'the how'.

Lizzie le Blond by way of Biosphere

Geir Jenssen is a musician who, under the name Biosphere, records mainly in Tromso, the northernmost town in mainland Norway. Surrounded by glaciers, mountains, and tundra, the austere 'Arctic' soundscapes he produces are gloomy yet strangely soothing. Sounds of howling wind and running water, combined with his music, evoke empty, snowy wastes.

Although usually filed under ambient, the Norwegian's compositions transcend the generic electronic noodlings of much of the genre. Take a listen to Kobresia, from the classic album Substrata.

With Jenssen's interest in the Arctic circle landscape, it wasn't a total suprise to discover he is also a skier and mountaineer. Many of the mountains he's climbed can be seen on his Northern Playground website, which is partly about the Lyngen peninsula area. Along with a picture of each mountain, and the route taken marked in red, he also lists the first ascensionists plus interesting historical information.

As I mentioned in the Ornulf Opdahl posting a substantial number of the peaks were first climbed by 19th Century British climbers. But it is the name of Elizabeth Main that crops up more than others. Born Elizabeth Hawkins-Whitshed, following a number of marriages, she was also known as Mrs Fred Burnaby, Mrs E Main, and Mrs Aubrey le Blond - as well as the more the more glamorous sounding Lizzie le Blond. She was one of the pioneering female alpinists and the first president of the Ladies Alpine Club. She wrote a number of books, including Mountaineering in the Land of the Midnight Sun (1908), which is all about the Lyngen area.

There are many tales about her, but a famous one saw her climb the Zinalrothorn (4221m) twice in one day - the second time to retrieve the skirt which propriety demanded she wear over her climbing breeches when off the mountain.

Geir Jenssen has also climbed Cho Oyu in Tibet. And, yes, he's produced music inspired by the expedition.

Alfred Gregory

The death of Alfred Gregory, the mountaineer and photographer who recorded the Everest expedition of 1953, has seen two fine obituaries appear in British newspapers: Jim Perrin's in the Guardian and Stephen Venables's in the Independent. Examples of his work can been here and here, plus there are more pictures and extracts from Alfred Gregory: Photographs from Everest to Africa on Penguin Books Australia's website.

Hunt for lost camera on Everest

The hunt for Mallory and Irvine's lost camera is becoming the Holy Grail of Mountaineering. As the Adventure Blog reports, this Spring will see yet another expedition heading to Everest in the hope of finding the Vest Pocket Kodak that may just prove that the mountain was climbed in 1924.

Just to recap, George Mallory and Andrew 'Sandy' Irvine were part of the third attempt on the 'Third Pole,' as Edward Whymper once dubbed it. On June 6 1924, the two climbers set out from their high camp at 23,100 feet to make a bid for the summit. They were last spotted on the afternoon of June 8 by Noel Odell who saw them near the Second step, a rock step at the base of the "summit pyramid."

The discovery of Mallory's body in 1999 reignited the debate as to whether they were in fact the first to reach the summit, nearly three decades before Hillary and Tenzing. Evidence cited that they had indeed been successful included the fact that there was no sign of a photograph of Mallory's wife Ruth on his body suggesting that he'd placed it on the summit. However, there was no concrete proof in the form of the camera and film.

Now, Everest historian, Tom Holzel, claims to have used high resolution satellite photos to try and locate the body of Irvine. Plenty of detail can be found on the Velocity Press site.

Meanwhile, on the Nepalese side of the Everest, a Sherpa led expedition is planning to clean up more than two tonnes of rubbish discarded in the "death zone", the area above 8,000 metres. Almost 4,000 people have climbed the mountain since 1953 and the higher slopes are littered with everything from old flags, tents, human waste and even a couple of dead bodies that have been there for years.

Reinhold Messner and Nanga Parbat

When the frozen remains of Gunther Messner, the lost brother of Italian mountaineer Reinhold Messner, were discovered on a Himalayan peak in August 2005, a decades old mystery appeared to have been solved. However, as the Guardian reports, Nanga Parbat, a new film about the ill-fated expedition, has prompted fellow climbers to attack as "false" the version of events being portrayed on the screen. This, they say, only tells Messner's side of the story.

Ever since the expedition to climb the mountain in 1970, rumours persisted that Messner had abandoned his younger brother to die, as he continued to the top alone. The man, often described as the greatest mountaineer in history, always maintained that Guther died in an avalanche. The discovery of the body, and confirmation through DNA testing in October 2005, finally proved that Messner had been telling the truth.

See Nanga Parbat trailers here and here.

Peter Boardman expedition to Afghanistan

Adam Curtis, a documentary maker, is researching the history of the west's relationship to Afghanistan over the past 200 years. His notes and observations can be seen on the Adam Curtis blog and it makes for fascinating reading and viewing.

In Part One - 1971, he describes how, in that year, the BBC sent a film crew to Kabul to recreate the first great military disaster of the British Empire - the retreat from the city in 1841. As an aside, Curtis mentions that:

"As the BBC were filming a group of students from Nottingham University drove past. They were a group of mountaineers who were on their way to their first expedition outside Europe. They were going to climb a peak in the Hindu Kush called Koh-i-Khaaik. Their leader was called Peter Boardman. He would become one of the world's most famous climbers, but this particular trip was going to go terribly wrong. In 1977 Boardman recorded a description to camera of what happened both literally, and inside his own mind during his terrifying ordeal."

The film can be found at the bottom of Part one. It may only last 13 minutes but Boardman's story of the expedition is a powerful bit of television. He vividly describes just what it is like to be stuck on a high-altitude climb and realising that you're at the point of no return - reversing is out of the question so the only hope of getting off the mountain alive is to carry on climbing to the top.

Ornulf Opdahl: Mood Paintings of the North

Few landscape painters seem to be able to combine both the brooding menace and attraction of mountains on the same canvas. One who does is Ornulf Opdahl whose paintings of the Sunmore mountains and fjords of the western coast of Norway, despite being full of dark skies and barren landscapes, look very inviting. That said, even when he uses light, such as the sun illuminating the side of a mountain, it feels like a momentary break in bleak weather, while any evidence of human activity is dwarfed by the natural world around it.

For a glimpse of this world visit Ornulf Opdahl: Mood Paintings of the North, a major exhibition at London’s Kings Place.

One painting in particular that caught my eye was The Mountain Ramoen 2009. Interested to know more about the peak, also known as Jonshornet, I discovered that the first known ascent was made by the British climber Geoffrey Hastings in 1889 - although he did find a cairn on the summit. Hastings features in Norway: The Northern Playground (1904), by the alpinist Cecil Slingsby, one of the first guides to mountaineering in the country. And, thanks to the Internet Archive, it can be read here.