Report on 15th International Festival of Mountaineering Literature (10th November 2001).
By Kevin
Borman.
"How long can I keep this up?" was the question posed by Festival
Director Terry Gifford to an intrigued audience.
The question was about mountaineering, not running a literature festival. Simon Yates used extracts from The Flame of Adventure to suggest that the attraction of climbing was the whole lifestyle in which it was set. When Simon had finished college and was asked what he intended to do, he answered: "I'm going to climb mountains." "It sounds better than making shoes," replied his grandmother.
Simon gave us glimpses of the exhilaration of an Alpine season, the dubious
novelty of travelling by train in Pakistan, the humiliation of time
spent in a UK hospital with one of what he described as 'a good collection
of tropical diseases', a surreal interview for a job in industrial
roped access, and the joy of being on the first British ascent of Kang
Tengri. Mountains, concluded Simon, are about adventure and you'll
keep going back to them as long as you want to.
A panel of young(ish) climbers were next to tackle the question. High's
gear guru Andy Kirkpatrick suggested he had 'found himself' through
climbing and through writing about it. Airlie Anderson enthused about
the diversity of the sport, and read from the Burgess Book of Lies
to illustrate aspects of climbing which she claimed she would not be
good at but which inspired her. The last of the trio, Niall Grimes,
spoke from the heart about his obsession with climbing. For Grimer,
climbing is about the moment, it's not a reflective thing. He'd rather
be on the crag than talk about being on the crag. He confessed to searching
in the background for clues whenever a picture of Osama Bin Laden appeared
on television. Was that a sequence of holds there, on the left hand
side of the cave? In answer to a question from Joss Lynam, Grimer did
for once reflect: "Sometimes I think it would be nice to be old
and just do the easy routes."
That old chestnut about the clash between the risk of climbing and responsibility
to a family reared its head. A female member of the audience insisted
that climbing was absolutely irresponsible if you have a spouse and
kids. A male member of the audience pointed out: "My wife and
children force me to go climbing because I'm unbearable if I don't."
A responding panel of more mature climbers then had their two penn'orth.
Chris Bonington spoke of the 'simple, clear-cut world' when you are focussed
on a climb or an expedition. He suggested: "We're better parents
because we're doing something in which we're fulfilled." Stephen
Venables had been in dire situations and thought: if I get out of here,
I'll never put myself in this situation again. He said the feeling might
last as much as 24 hours before he'd realise that things aren't that
simple. Chris suggested older climbers are more cautious, wanting to
guard their remaining years. Marjorie Mortimer: "This is because
the years you've had have been so good, you want more of them."
The breaks in the programme saw a brisk business in book sales and book
signings by other guests too, such as Norman Croucher with Legless
But Smiling, Eiger:The Vertical Arena author Daniel Anker, who had
travelled from Switzerland, and the Grasmere-based painter Julian Cooper.
Jim Curran made varied contributions to the day. After 25 years as a
film-maker and writer on major expeditions, he'd realised the net weight
was staying the same. Cameras were getting lighter at the same rate
as he was getting heavier. The repetition of expedition filming was
getting to him though, a complaining body was making climbing more
difficult, and he knew he needed to do something dramatically different.
Cycling from Muckle Flugga lighthouse in Shetland down to The Lizard
in Cornwall, meeting friends and taking in classic climbs, was what
he came up with.
He promised to read only boring bits from his new book, The Middle-aged
Mountaineer, because if he read the best bits we'd assume the rest
was not as good and wouldn't buy it. Behind Jim's self-deprecating
humour there was a painful honesty which has already made some commentators
say this is his best book.
Later, over the tea interval, an exhibition of Jim Curran's sensitive
pencil sketches from The Middle-aged Mountaineer was opened. In addition
there was a hint of things to come, with two fine new oils of K2 showing
the direction in which he now intends to go; not a new departure but
more a return to his roots as an artist.
Before Jim's exhibition though, there was a moving moment when Terry
Gifford flashed up on the screen a document from 1935. It was Charlie
Houston's application to join the Alpine Club. At that stage he already
had 10 years of impressive climbs behind him, mostly in the Alps and
Alaska. There followed a magisterial overview from the 87 year-old
of the way in which mountains have affected our culture.
Charlie spoke of Zeus, of the 'Great Game' of the 19th Century, of de
Saussure's research into mountain sickness being fuelled with vast
quantities of red wine, of the crocodiles of prospectors going over
the Chilkoot Pass during the Yukon gold rush. He recalled becoming
good friends with his Sherpa back in the 1930s and remembered 'a picnic
in Nepal' with Bill Tilman.
For Charlie Houston 'expeditioning' rather than climbing was the thing.
After the K2 disaster of 1953 he stopped climbing because of his wish
to stay safe for his family. He'd had a number of years of 'the best
there was'; quit while you're ahead, he decided. Charlie ended his
memorable talk by reminding us we should be going to the mountains
for joy, rather than for commercial reasons.
Steve Goodwin, chair of the judges for the Boardman Tasker Award for
Mountain Literature 2001, was next up, repeating the verdict which
had been given at the Alpine Club just 24 hours earlier. His fellow
judges were Orkney-based mountaineer, novelist and poet Andrew Grieg,
and the poet, writer and academic Mikel Vause, who had flown over from
his home in Utah for the presentation of the award.
Tribute was paid to Dorothy Boardman who, having done much to ensure
the award's prestigious standing, is retiring as secretary to the trustees,
to be succeeded by the widely respected editor Maggie Body.
From an entry of 24 books, six were shortlisted, as detailed in High
227. Jim Curran's The Middle-aged Mountaineer was one of these, but
he withdrew the book at a late stage when it became apparent that,
due to an administrative error, the judges had seen only the proofs
and not the finished book.
The judges were nevertheless unanimous in choosing Roger Hubank's Hazard's
Way (reviewed by Harold Drasdo in High 227) as the winner. Set in Wasdale
at the turn of the 20th century, it sees fictional characters crossing
paths with O.G. Jones, Professor Norman Collie and Aleister Crowley.
It was, said Steve Goodwin, good, restrained fiction which came close
to being 'the great climbing novel'. Roger Hubank then read an extract
from his book to prove the point. This success means that Peter Hodgkiss'
Ernest Press extends its strong track record for producing prizewinners.
Peter Harding represented himself and Derek Walker as judges of the High
/Festival Essay Competition. The winner this year was Robert Walton,
whose story Fallen Angel you will be able to read elsewhere in this
issue. High's Ian Smith read the story with his usual dramatic enthusiasm.
An extra tweak to the programme allowed Dave Wynne-Jones to read his
fine shortlisted poem The Anatomy of Pain.
It had already been a superb day but then we had Pat and Baiba Morrow
from Canada, a self-confessed 'team in life and in crime'. Hardly a
crime; going on fabulous adventures and bringing back endless stunning
images to inform and entertain and provoke thoughts.
After Pat Morrow went freelance in the mid-70s he reckoned it took him
eight or nine years to make a living from his photography. The young
climbers of his time weren't bothered about documenting what they did.
When he pointed a camera their way, more often than not they'd throw
him the finger.
But it gradually paid off, with a kaleidoscope of memorable images to
illustrate the fact. We saw the slot canyons of the American south-west,
backcountry skiing in Canada, the endless snows of Antarctica and Alaska,
the erupting volcanoes of the Kamchatka Peninsula, an achingly beautiful
shot of the Yukon but then also, and this was what lifted the Morrow's
presentation, superb pictures of the people and cultures they had travelled
among, particularly in Asia. As Baiba said: "We tend to go back
to places that resonate in our hearts." "The people you meet
along the way make the difference," added Pat. That summed the
day up, too.
Kevin Borman