Popular Culture Review Vol. 17, No. 2, Summer 2006 | Page 91

Man(kind) VS. Mountain 87 Americans, with the special cis-Atlantic twist they gave their exploits, rivaled the British: Archdeacon Hudson Stuck conquering Alaska’s formidable Mt. McKinley (20,500 ft.), Thoreau on the craggy rocks of Katahdin, Clarence King in the Sierra Nevadas, and John Muir, founder of the Sierra Club, from Yosemite to Alaska. These few iconic figures among hundreds of climbers, countless numbers of weekend viewers. The United States not only furnished numerous examples; it bade well even to surpass the British in appreciating mountains. Here was created Yellowstone, the first national park in 1872, one short year after Stephens’s bestseller, soon to be followed, one by one, with a baker’s dozen of new reserves—Yosemite, Rainier, Glacier, Rocky Mountain, Cascades, Lassen, etc.—overwhelmingly devoted to preserving unique mountainous areas. As Thoreau put it, “In wildness is the preservation of the world" ("Walking'’). The final stage, growing stronger and stronger as the twentieth-century spun out its years, was, for all intents and purposes, purely secular. Mountains now exist to be visited and climbed by the tourists (the less lofty or difficult examples), the unconquered few to be attacked by solo climbers all the way up to large expeditions with leaders, porters, and endless paraphernalia. There is actually something more going on than simple exaltation in achieving a climb, under pleasant circumstances (friendly companions, food to be appreciated by the cold and weary, the cozy bivouac, dangerous pitches successfully ascended, with the added bonus of incomparably beautiful surroundings [remember, the public now appreciates mountain beauty]). There is competition, challenge, getting higher, faster, more dangerously—“danger” being the operative word—the extreme sport phenomenon. Cf. a recent movie, Vertical Limit: The athlete (no longer a mere amateur scrambler or climber) assuages his ego, displays his machismo by taking extreme, life-threatening, soul-wrenching chances. Somehow just surviving proves the better person. This stretching of the envelope is more than a desire to excel, even to conquer the unconquerable. It may be exemplified by contrasting George Mallory’s three attempts in the 1920s to get to the top of Mt. Everest. No one tried harder; indeed, he and his fellow climber, Andrew Irvine, lost their lives on the highest pitches. But he was a poetic dreamer, an English teacher and idealist, no professional or semi-professional mountaineer. Once asked why climbing Everest was such an obsession with him, he famously replied, "Because it is there,” a subtle answer open to more than one interpretation (Unsworth 100). Contrast his answer with that of Sir Edmund Hillary, the New Zealand beekeeper who, with the Nepalese sherpa Tensing Norgay, finally reached the top thirty years later (1953): "We knocked the bastard off!” (Unsworth 337) He’s facing an animistic mountain antagonist actively trying to thwart him. This is an assault, no longer just a climb. Obviously this phenomenon does not exhibit itself in mountaineering alone. It is part of a tougher view of life itself, in keeping v