Book Reviews

EDITED BY JOHN THACKRAY

Ascent: The Mountaineering Experience in Word and Image. Steve Roper and Allen Steck, editors. Sierra Club Books, San Francisco, 1984. 174 pages, black and white and color photographs, drawings. $25.00.

These days a wider diversity of people than ever before are taking to the hills, ranging from the weekend devotees to weirdos to the new breed of super- climbers-whose single-minded commitments, media images and financial re- wards make them de facto professionals.

Given this tremendous range in ability and involvement, the question then arises: whose “mountain experience in word and image” should the quadrennial Ascent reflect? Wisely, editors Roper and Steck have decided to publish what they deem good writing by “literature mountaineers.” believing that quality writing will appeal to all. That makes sense for such a diverse climbing commu- nity which already has its own trade press. It also provides the proper means for judging this latest edition: namely, by how effectively and creatively these authors communicate their mountaineering ideas and experiences to all levels of climbers.

Sad to say. using that standard, the fiction selections are disappointing. An activity conducted under such dramatic conditions and in such superb natural surroundings ought to provide the stuff of many powerful short stories, but here it doesn’t. There is, to be sure, no lack of climbing action or settings in these pieces. Although imaginative plots and ethereal settings are used in most of the stories, unfortunately, the literary actors, the climbers themselves, come off as ethereal and without substance. Most of the tales are trying too hard to make a point or to push fashionable climbing themes: climbing as a mystical experi- ence; climbing as ultimately useless or self-destructive; the climber as self- absorbed or narcissistic. etc. They strain to be sensational or to persuade, only to overshoot their marks and, ironically, trivialize the lives of climbers. Instead of characters, we end up with caricatures. Cardboard characters occur and make it apparent that what is lacking in this collection is any short story of a normal climber dealing with normal doubts and desires.

The most substantial piece in this edition is an excerpt from Jeff Long’s upcoming book, Angels of Light. Long has already published a number of worthy stories and even this excerpt stands on its own. His action is well paced, the characters are refreshingly believable and the prose perfectly suited to the subject matter.

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Unfortunately, many of the photographs-Ascent’s historic strength-were lackluster in this edition. Only one of three photographic spreads measures up to past standards. “In and Around Denali,” with color photographs by various artists, does capture well the moods and multitudinous beauties of the “Great One” and its environs. Surprisingly, Olaf Soot’s Patagonia images. taken with a Hasselblad, are flat and lacking in detail. And Hank Levin’s “A Bouldering Gallery,” while colorful and well cropped, seems lacking in dynamic motion.

In contrast to the suspect quality of its fiction and photography, Ascent is on much firmer ground with the nonfiction entries. Most are first rate. Dave Roberts is back with another provocative piece, “The Public Climber,” questioning the place of publicity in climbing. Ron Matous, another returnee from the last Ascent, twists the traditional expedition account around in “Masherbrum and Back Again.” With Himalayan climbers still searching for the Last Great Writ- ing Problem, Matous has taken a new direction and devoted the bulk of his article to the approach and retreat from a thwarted climb. His attention to people and places provides some fresh glimpses of the region’s natural and human grandeur. More traditional climbing accounts and surveys come in articles about Patagonia and the Black Canyon of the Gunnison by Bobby Knight and Ed Webster respectively. Then there is Tom Higgins’ indignant essay on climbing ethics, “Tricksters and Traditionalists.”

Steck and Roper have also shown that they’re not afraid to inject religion into climbing (something not even Reagan has attempted) by publishing an article, “Mrs. Robertson Is Climbing Again.” Norah Robertson is a feisty old Briton and feminist who conquered cancer through Christian Science beliefs and then fought many other battles within the family circle to gain acceptance as a female climber. She continues to make ascents at seventy-five. Rick Sloane’s tasteful treatment of her remarkable life and religion makes this one of the best climbing biographies recently written.

My favorites, however, were a trilogy of articles on the current Denali scene and Joe Kelsey’s story about the tribulations of writing a guidebook to the Wind River Mountains. All of these are stuffed with good writing, useful facts, obser- vations and climbing anecdotes. Only a curmudgeon would not enjoy them.

This edition of Ascent shows that there’s wide variety and plenty of strength in mountaineering nonfiction. Mountain fiction, however, is alive but not yet well. Although the unevenness of quality in this edition remains a considerable drawback, Steck and Roper’s commitment to mountaineering fiction is com- mendable and I hope that they’ll continue to give it a chance to grow.

JIM VERMEULEN

On Top of the World: Five Women Explorers in Tibet. Luree Miller. The Moun- taineers, Seattle, 1984. 222 pages, black and white photographs, sketches, maps, bibliography. $8.95.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of Luree Miller’s book is the variety of styles adopted by these explorers in their travels in and around Tibet. The expe-

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ditions of Elizabeth Sarah (Nina) Mazuchelli, Annie Royle Taylor, Isabella Bird Bishop, Fanny Bullock Workman and Alexandra David-Neel-three Britons, one American and one Frenchwoman, respectively-took place between 1872 and 1911. Mazuchelli’s expedition was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure; Taylor’s expedition was an integral part of her missionary work. Bishop and Workman were adventurers; David-Neel was a scholar and teacher.

Elizabeth Mazuchelli was married to a British Army Chaplain ordered to serve two years in Darjeeling. Inspired by views of the Himalaya, she instigated a grand tour into the “interior.” The two-month expedition took Mazuchelli, her husband and about seventy servants to the Everest region. Here they were turned back by lack of food and snow conditions near Mount Junnoo. As the author puts it, “for all of her adventure spirit, Nina remained a lady.” Unlike the women who followed her, Mazuchelli retained Victorian ladies’ dress, substituting “moccasins” for high-heeled boots. It should be noted that during the journey, she did not walk any extended distances.

Annie Taylor, the second Briton, made her foray into Tibet in September 1892, twenty years after Mazuchelli. As a missionary engaged in Christian works, she enjoyed a freedom Mazuchelli had not. A long-time resident of Asia, she had lived on the Tibetan border for eight years before she attempted to reach the forbidden city of Lhasa. The expedition consisted of Taylor, five Asians and sixteen horses; within a month, it was reduced to Taylor, one companion and two horses. They ran out of food and, in January 1893, when Taylor was ar- rested only three days’ march from Lhasa, she was too weak to walk. The Tibetan authorities would not permit her to continue and, only after hard bar- gaining, gave her minimal supplies for the return trip. In April, she left Tibet, having travelled approximately 1300 miles in seven months and ten days.

Isabella Bird Bishop was a famous Victorian traveller. Her nine travel books were all best-sellers. Although she never entered the interior of Tibet, she rode to its edge twice-once from India and once from China; on both occasions she was over sixty. In her earlier travels, through the Sierra Nevada and Rocky Mountains, she had become accustomed to riding horseback astride, using a Mexican saddle, and on her trip through India and Little Tibet she considered her horse, Gyalpo, to be the best member of the expedition. Her style was to travel light and her camping gear was “packed in four small boxes, twenty inches long, twelve inched wide, and twelve inches high.” A professional writer, she kept clear accounts of her adventures. The numerous quotations cited in this book serve as an enticement to read her works in their entirety.

The only American in the book, Fanny Bullock Workman, was introduced to mountaineering by her husband in the White Mountains of New Hampshire in the 1880’s and it was as a mountaineer that she explored Tibet. The Work- mans’ many books included an account of a 14,000-mile cycle trek through India, published in 1904. They then became fascinated by the Himalaya and the Karakoram and commenced their climbing expeditions, which they chronicled in five thick books. Workman wrote of herself, “I am not a light weight and am a slow climber.” It was her opinion that women could climb mountains, as she

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had, without any particular physical training. She set and broke her own world’s altitude records for women. The author states “it was an unremitting struggle throughout her mountaineering and exploring career for Fanny to be taken seri- ously.” Given the scope of her accomplishments, as described in this book, that is hard to imagine, though undoubtedly true.

Alexandra David-Neel found yet another avenue through which to explore Tibet. An avid reader of texts on Asia, she travelled in India and Ceylon at the turn of the century and was determined to return to the East. That journey, which began in 19 11, lasted nearly fourteen years. Having studied with famous Orien- talists, learned Sanskrit and become a Buddhist, she returned to India as an accepted scholar. She was also the first Western woman to be granted a private audience with the Dalai Lama, who exhorted her to learn Tibetan, which she did. She travelled to remote monasteries along the Tibet-Sikkim border and visited the famous Tibetan monastery of Tashilhunpo. When she was deported from India for travelling into Tibet without a pass, she then approached through China. At the age of fifty-four, she donned the disguise of a Tibetan beggar woman and completed her pilgrimage to Lhasa, where she spent two months and explored the Potala at length. She purchased numerous books to use as refer- ences and, following her return to Europe, published her first book on Tibet when she was fifty-nine; over the next forty years, she would write twenty more. When she was sixty-eight, during World War II, she attempted to return to Tibet and spent six years at Tatsienlu before returning to France through China and India. Her love of Tibet never faded and she was a legendary expert on the country decades before she died in her 1Olst year.

Luree Miller’s accounts of these five women explorers move quickly and are easy to read. The many references and complete bibliography furnish an inter- ested reader with numerous possibilities for further armchair exploration. Miller documents their travels without passing judgment. There is an inspirational quality to the book, certainly for women, as well as for anyone who wonders what type of adventures others have pursued in a remote quarter of the world even at sixty and seventy years of age.

BARBARA J. EUSER

Beyond the Vertical. Layton Kor. Bob Godfrey, editor. Alpine House, Boulder, 1983. 215 pages, color photographs. $35.00.

Anyone growing up in Colorado and coming of age in Eldorado Springs can tell you that the name Kor stands second only to Moses in local hagiologies. Precious few rocks exist in Colorado that don’t bear a Kor first ascent. He was prolific, the hornetowner who showed Yosemite’s stars that there was a relevant life beyond the Valley; the wild, epic hardman who returned from the Eiger (and John Harlin’s death) and thereafter vanished into the mystical, or at least mystifying, fastnesses of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. From a storyteller’s point of view, nothing till now was lacking, except a fine, bold telling.

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When I first heard of the book, I had a dreadful premonition, because the praise of living heroes is always a risky venture when the living hero himself is helping orchestrate it. Biography risks turning into transparent deification. The life and times of Kor were solid gold, but even gold can be adulterated. My premonitions grew worse when rumor had it that Beyond the Vertical was essen- tially a boys’ club affair, liberally peanut-butter-and-jellied with ex-climbing partners’ vignettes and anecdotes; I braced myself.

I needn’t have worried. Beyond the Vertical really flies. Here and there it labors, is two dimensional, slow and impersonal. Furthermore, there are more typos than any $35.00 book should contain. But the overall product is magical and inspiring, the way great climbing literature is supposed to be. For one thing, this is a picture book of superb quality (by now a trademark of Godfrey’s cottage industry, Alpine House). The selection and layout of photos is striking. Land- scapes, generously spread across the large 9- by 1Zinch color pages, can match the very best of the Sierra Club. They alone justify the price of the book. Many of the photos of the adventures-at-hand are so aesthetically seductive that they become landscapes first, documents second. This is especially true of the desert spire pictures in the chapter ‘Sandstone Thrills.” A number of the candid portraits are historical gems. They remind us that climbing fashions have not always consisted of buns-tight, nylon running trunks. Here stand cocky, teenage Pat Ament and Larry Dalke, crewcut and pigeon-toed, looking for all the world like Dennis the Menace and an escaped computer nerd. These were the days of gold line, baggy knickers and flannel shirts-before style became vanity. And for pure legend, try the photo on page 156 of Kor, Dougal Haston and John Harlin standing ankle deep in snow at the foot of the Eiger-a masterpiece of nostalgia.

It is the text, however, that makes this more than just another coffee-table book. True, there’s not much of it; more pages are devoted to photos than prose. For additional text to flesh out Kor’s eloquent, if spare, remembrances, Godfrey solicited stories from both the famous and the not so famous who once climbed with the six-foot five-inch dynamo. These minisketches are interlarded through- out the book, sewn onto Kor’s narrative. Twenty-two times in all, Kor intro- duces a climb, then gives the stage to a former partner, then re-enters. This “meanwhile back at the ranch” device could easily fail; ordinarily it would fail. Several of the “duets” are outright repetitious, with no redeeming contrasts or ironies. With some, the segues from narrator to guest speaker and back again are abrupt and jarring. This use of seconds to bolster an autobiography can all too easily come off as self-serving. Here it doesn’t, though. This Greek chorus- Royal Robbins, Steve Roper, Galen Rowell, and others-sings not just of the hero and his deeds, but also of his times, the mountains, and the act of climbing. At their best, the contributions invest the narrative with more than their sum total of words. Chris Bonington’s reflections of the 1965 winter ascent of the Eiger Direct, for instance, blend with Kor’s so neatly that we gain insights, even new drama, from one of the most repeated tales in climbing history. Chuck Pratt’s affectionate reverie in “Yosemite Valley” is among the book’s finest. In recall-

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ing how it was on the granite walls, he composes an illuminating ode. “You were always in a hurry, Layton, at everything. Fast at climbing, at driving, at eating. Even walking, you moved with that characteristic posture I could recog- nize at a hundred yards-body tilted forward at the waist into a wind only you could feel . . .” Frank Magray’s recap of Cleopatra’s Needle, Steve Komito’s of Standing Rock, Tex Bossier’s of Chasm View Wall-these and others add to a fond, personal portrait of a slightly immortal, definitely offbeat man.

Ultimately the book succeeds because of its subject. Kor’s sincerity shines on every page. He never boasts, never pretends, nor do his mini-biographers for him. Over and over again, his partners describe him as outlandish, adrenalin- soaked, driven, and largely devoid of poetic soul searching.

There was no hidden depth to Kor’s love for climbing, no secret reason. The book’s greatest strength is that no false poetry or philosophy is retroactively attached to a great climbing career. Kor is plain and simple about his plain and simple passion-ascent. In “Aftermath,” Kor briefly describes the spiritual hun- gering that he claims underlay his demonic output of first ascents during the 1960s. It carries no proselytism, nor rebuke for the wild lifestyle and friends he kept before his conversion. “As I studied more it became clearer and clearer that spiritual activity provided a far more meaningful outlet for my energies than had the ten years of extreme climbing.” A man less respectful of other people would not have added the “for my energies.”

From the story-teller’s perspective, Kor’s religious conversion is a splen- didly united swan song, private and hinting at further journeys beyond the in- tensity, color and egotism of ascent. Homer alluded to just such a future for his Ulysses, a journey which would take the seafaring adventurer so far inland one day that people would not recognize the purpose of his oars. As I finished Beyond the Vertical, I got the sense that, like a Zen hero. Kor had left his vertical extremes far, far behind. Whereas the sudden death of a great climber causes us sorrow, Kor’s quiet exit-both in real life and in this book-leaves a celebratory tone. Beyond the Vertical is one of those cultural treasures that confirms and articulates the basic values of ascent.

JEFF LONG

Mountain Names. Robert Hixson Julyan. The Mountaineers, Seattle, 1984. 233 pages, black and white illustrations. $11.95, Cloth; $8.95, Paper.

Being a trivia buff, and a climber, I was very happy to receive a copy of Moun- tain Names for Christmas recently. At first perusal, the book appears to be rather humdrum; but it can soon become engrossing stuff. The book doesn’t have a huge selection of mountains, and where and how their names originated, but what there is will be useful knowledge for your next game of Trivial Pursuit. Perhaps a wee bit expensive-but where else will you find out how Mount Sowbungy in Maine got its name?

TODD SWAIN

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The Armchair Mountaineer. David Reuther and John Thorn, editors. Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1984. 342 pages, drawings, glossary. $19.95.

The Armchair Mountaineer is a collection of fifty short pieces, whose editorial research-the crux of any such book-is exhaustive and caring. Reuther and Thorn have evidently culled through everything in which the ascent of moun- tains is even mentioned, including a spattering of unlikely voices, nonclimbers who offer unique and amusing perspectives on the sport: a comic story by H. G. Wells, Peter Matthiessen’s search for the snow leopard, Joe McGinniss’ ac- count of his “accidental” climb in the Brooks Range.

Although the experienced armchair climber might complain that he’s seen the bulk of this material before, taken as a whole, the book stands as an inter- esting historical survey. The editors have treated with about equal weight rock climbing, alpine climbing and expeditionary mountaineering. By juxtaposing articles from different periods, they demonstrate the evolution in attitudes to- wards the sport. It’s interesting in this light to read Mallory’s account of Everest alongside Habeler’s. The same concern for style, not mere success, evolved in rock climbing. Chouinard’s “Modem Yosemite Climbing,” originally pub- lished in the 1963 American Alpine Journal and reprinted here, was a seminal work in this regard. Self expression became a big theme. So did competition. So did the passion for getting up there quicker, prettier and cleaner than the next fellow.

To balance the ethics tickets, there’s Warren Harding’s account of his bolted climb up the Wall of the Early Morning Light. And much more. about the old Valley scene: including Anton Nelson’s ascent of Lost Arrow, Roper and Steck’s of the Salathe, Galen Rowell’s tortuous rescue from the South Face of Half Dome, and Chris Jones’ short history of the Yosemite climbing counter- culture.

Editors Reuther and Thorn have elected not to include the fancy photographs found in most climbing books. Their absence seems more a function of concept than economy. The book is illustrated by Bob Carroll, but his few line drawings seem almost an afterthought, a device to break up the text.

As with any anthology, one can quibble with the editors’ choices, but overall this is a carefully edited, no-nonsense collection covering all bases, from the pioneer days to the present. The Armchair Mountaineer is really as good as a broad, general anthology can be.

DALLAS MURPHY

Vertigo Games, by Glenn Randall. W.R. Publications, Sioux City, Iowa, 1983. 125 pages, many photos, soft cover; $20.00.

Vertigo Games is a collection of chatty, informal tales of Colorado climbing from the mid 1970s to the early 1980s. All major areas are represented, as are many minor ones, with rock climbing justifiably being the major focus. The text

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is liberally sprinkled with amusing quotes, my favorite one from Leonard Coyne: “I consider placing bolts while hanging on dubious things behind dubious flakes with a dubious belay to be more truly free climbing than placing cute little nuts in cute little cracks at cute little cosmic crags.” The book is profusely illustrated with color and black-and-white photos, and all this, along with the great title, prepared me for a visual and factual feast.

Why then do I find Vertigo Games so disappointing? Not being privy to the current Colorado climbing scene-out of touch would be the kindest descrip- tion-1 can’t fault the book for its choice of routes or historical accuracy. But despite Randall’s prodigious efforts and obvious talents, Vertigo Games lacks both focus and authority. Nowhere are we told the criteria for his selection of routes; are these modem classics, historically important routes for the period covered, currently “in” test pieces? I suspect a mixture of the three, but there is no clear rhythm, no attempt made to put these climbs into perspective. Many of the stories end inconclusively, and the writing, while trying admirably to be honest and personal, comes off more as gossipy, tabloid-style journalism. The only thread connecting the stories is one of difficulty and danger, and there seems little else to recommend these climbs to the reader.

The photographs, many superb, are. marred by almost universally poor re- production, and the book as a whole sports an unimaginative and pedestrian design. Nonetheless, the photographs do capture some of the energy of the Colorado climbing scene and inspire you to get out on the crags. As a paean to the diversity of rock in the state, these photos might justify the book’s price, but barely. Let’s hope for better next time.

MICHAEL KENNEDY

This Climbing Game: An Anthology of Mountain Humour. Walt Unsworth, compiler. Drawings by Ivan Cumberpatch. Viking, Harmondsworth, 1984. 220 pages. E9.95.

Drawing upon guidebooks, factual accounts, and fantasy, Walt Unsworth has assembled some fifty examples of “mountain humor”; they range from ten-page narratives to parody poems and one- or two-liners. Virtually all are twentieth- century, and British. American readers may find that the Atlantic crossing pro- duces a loss of flavor. But the national bias lends some continuity to this decid- edly mixed collection, and it provides recurring characters of international repute. One is an organizer of numberless Himalayan expeditions, who in one incarnation is known as Cassius Bonafide. Interviewed by Mac the Belly, Mr. Bonafide praises “great box office” climbs while decrying the commer- cialization of the sport. The acidulous presence of Don Whillans is more vivid still: a dour, cutting intelligence. I wish Unsworth had taken a bit from Whil- lans’ own book, Portrait of a Mountaineer.

Unsworth fairly shouts the modesty of his intentions: “The purpose is to amuse and entertain, nothing more.” (But that is a lot.) He nevertheless tries to undergird his selections with the argument that “It is because [climbing] is a

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serious business that its participants have a highly developed sense of humour, even in the most dangerous situations.” This sounds plausible. The trouble is that such humor loses its edge unless its context is rendered with the skill of a fine writer. Unsworth illustrates his point with a “typical story” of a mountaineer who, having been narrowly spared by an avalanche, quips, “Let’s get back to terra firma. More firmer and less terror.” A quick retort under the circumstances, whether original or not, but pretty cold, as well as highly familiar, on the printed page. The intensity of a hard climb or big expedition can lend a heightened but transitory flavor to even the most trivial remarks.

Climbers may be humorous “characters,” but they are rarely humorists. Some of the funniest climbing literature comes from outsiders like Evelyn Waugh and Mark Twain, whose classic “Ascent of the Riffelberg” appears in this book. In addition to his marvelous gift of wit, Twain had the advantage of seeing in nineteenth-century Alpinism the absurdities that its participants were too preoccupied to notice. Unsworth has regrettably abridged “Riffelberg” a good deal, thus depriving us of the barometer boiled in bean soup and the news that “the eternal snow line ceases somewhere above the ten-thousand-foot level and does not begin anymore.”

In one of Unsworth’s most interesting selections, J. M. Edwards demon- strates that, on occasion, climbers can indeed be amusing writers. His “A Great Effort” has the introspective comic energy, though not the overarching pessi- mism, of a Samuel Beckett monologue. Anyone who has ever hesitated to move up on his holds will understand Edwards:

So standing still on my footholds and feeling firmer than I had done for some time, I got the tin of sardines out of my pocket, twisted the lid off in the usual way but carefully because of the position, and ate the fish one by one with my mouth. This took some time. Then drained the tin, put it back in my pocket and turned to the rocks once more. Now how will it go, I thought, every excuse is exhausted.

An inspired choice. But how could Unsworth have omitted Eric Newby? Every- one should read his A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush. It is one of the funniest books I know, about climbing or anything else.

One could quarrel with many of Unsworth’s choices, but he set himself a hard task. Humor is the least transportable of commodities. You either find something funny or you don’t. I found about half this book funny: Not a bad percentage at all.

STEVEN JERVIS

High Altitude and Man. John B. West and Sukhamay Lahiri, editors. American Physiological Society, Bethesda, 1984. 199 pages, tables, diagrams. $39.00.

Thanks to the American Medical Research Expedition to Everest in 1981, physiologists have turned to the high mountains again to do research. The

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expedition was an outstanding success on three counts: 1) Everest was climbed and scientific observations were made on the summit; 2) numerous phys- iological studies were successfully completed; and 3) there were no accidents, injuries, or deaths. One climber developed high altitude pulmonary edema which was promptly recognized and treated. High Altitude and Man consists of 16 brief chapters of research studies presented at a symposium sponsored by the American Physiological Society in La Jolla, California. The book is not a com- plete summary of all the results of the expedition’s findings and only about half of the chapters report on studies performed on Everest. Each chapter contains clear illustrations and numerous well-selected references.

The sections of greatest interest are those concerned with research studies performed during the expedition. John West’s introduction and first chapter provide a succinct description of the remarkable alterations of blood gases near and on the summit of Everest. It is hard to believe that climbers without oxygen are capable of functioning at all on the summit, when one considers their esti- mated blood gas values to be: arterial POZ of 28 mm., an arterial PC02 of 7.5 mm., and a pH of 7.76. (Normal sea level values are 95 mm., 40 mm., and 7.40 respectively.) Equally fascinating was the discovery that the barometric pres- sure on the summit was about 17mm. higher than that predicted from standard tables. West’s discussion of barometric pressure fluctuations on Everest makes it clear that the oxygenless climber on Everest is so near his physiologic limits that a small decrease in barometric pressure during bad weather may make the summit impossible to attain. West also points out that the location of Everest near the equator results in a higher barometric pressure than one would expect. If Everest were in the polar region, the summit barometric pressure would be lower. For this reason, a polar Everest probably could never be climbed without oxygen. Robert Schoene’s studies on the ventilatory response to hypoxia indi- cate that climbers who substantially increase their ventilation while breathing a low oxygen mixture will probably perform better at very high altitudes than those who have a lesser increase in ventilation. The chapter on cerebral function reports that high altitude exposure results in mild deterioration in learning, memory, and expression of verbal material which persists for several days after descent. The observation that a bilateral reduction in motor speed (finger tap- ping) characterized by rapid muscle fatigue persisted for up to one year after descent was surprising. Jim Milledge presents his studies on the effect of stren- uous daily exercise on sodium and water exchange. Hill walking for seven hours a day for five days results in retention of sodium and water, an increase in plasma volume, and systemic edema. A similar effect was seen at high altitude. Stimu- lation of the renin-aldosterone system is the causative mechanism. The hypoxia of altitude exposure is synergistic to exercise in stimulating renin output. While Milledge speculates that exercise-induced fluid retention may contribute to high altitude pulmonary edema, his speculation would have been stronger if he had demonstrated a substantial decrease in vital capacity after exercise. Studies by the reviewer of vital capacity before and after similar exercise and hemodilution

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at 12,400 feet in the White Mountains of California revealed no change in vital capacity. Bob Winslow reports his studies on the oxygen dissociation curve and finds that the effect of 2, 3-DPG in modulating oxygen affinity at very high altitude is minimized by the presence of uncompensated respiratory alkalosis. The latter becomes progressively more severe at very high altitude and main- tains arterial oxygen content, so that it is possible that arterial oxygen saturation may actually be higher at 28,028 feet (8,848 meters) than at 20,500 feet (6,300 meters). Periodic breathing (Cheyne-Stokes respiration) during sleep was stud- ied in expedition members and Sherpas. All lowlanders, including lowland Sherpas, exhibited periodic breathing during sleep. Typical patterns consisted of 3 or 4 deep forceful breaths for about 10 seconds followed by a complete cessation of breathing for a similar duration. The pattern of breathing was iden- tical to that observed and published by Angelo Mosso in the Alps in 1886. Only high-altitude Sherpas did not exhibit periodic breathing. Lahiri commented on the slightly longer lung-ear circulation time at 5,400 meters compared to sea level. This is not a new observation since Marticorena, in 1970, reported that arm to tongue circulation times were prolonged from 5.4 seconds at sea level to 7.3 seconds at 12,300 feet. A lower cardiac output and an increased intra- thoracic blood pool are the probable mechanisms. The lack of any substantial prolongation of the lung to ear circulation time on the Everest subjects also reinforces the concept that left ventricular failure does not occur at high altitude. Duane Blume reports on metabolic and endocrine changes. He made many measurements, but I failed to detect any new discoveries. Blume’s studies once again confirmed the presence of progessive weight loss at very high altitude due to a decrease in food intake (poor appetite), respiratory water loss, and probably hypoxic intestinal malabsorption. Malabsorption at high altitude has been spec- ulated upon for many years, but proof is lacking. More sophisticated methods than xylose absorption will probably be needed to answer this question.

Nine other chapters do not report research results from the expedition, but present data on breathing during sleep, control of breathing at high altitude, brain blood flow during hypoxia, and a brief review of high altitude polycythemia.

This volume is a valuable source of research data regarding high altitude physiology. The sections of greatest interest are those concerned with work done on the expedition to Everest. The reader should be aware that this book is a collection of presentations at a symposium. Such books have certain built-in disadvantages including: 1) Limited and often unbalanced coverage of the field; 2) The writing style is uneven and organization of the sections varies; 3) Since the symposium audience is usually highly specialized, the presentations will also be specialized. This volume is primarily written by physiologists for phys- iologists. Despite these minor limitations, this book covers all topics in an excellent manner, thanks to capable editors. High Altitude and Man is worth reading by anyone interested in what happens to man at high altitude. This volume belongs in all physiology and medical libraries.

HERBERTN. HULTGREN, M.D.

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West of Eden. A History of the art and literature of Yosemite. David Robertson. Yosemite Natural History Association and Wilderness Press. 174 pages, 27 color plates, 72 black-and-white plates. $29.95 hardcover; $19.95 paper- back.

David Robertson has written a book that is a joy to look at and a pleasure to read. He set out with the intention of researching the art and literature of Yosemite and the Sierra Nevada and has provided us with both result and theory. He treats literature, painting and photography in their various epochs, from the “discovery” of Yosemite by the white man to the present day.

In the literature, Robertson singles out John Muir and Clarence King among the Sierra Nevada’s first interpreters. I have mostly found Muir tough sledding and much prefer King’s racy style. Robertson is surely correct when he calls King’s Mountaineering in the Sierra Nevada “the best single book ever written about the Sierra.” Moving into our own time, Robertson points to Jack Kerouac’s great trip up Matterhorn Peak in Dharma Bums: a trip that several of us have repeated, book in hand.

The early paintings of Yosemite are really quite special. Here is the western eye interpreting a wilderness and a place of exceptional grandeur, in what must be one of the earliest 19th century bodies of such work. These artists were predominantly from Europe and New England, and as Robertson observes they looked to those artistic traditions for their technique and inspiration. Excellent though much of this early painting may be, it is cast in a European Alpine or Hudson River School mold. The truly original vision of Yosemite was yet to come.

According to Robertson it is the photographer who has achieved the most important art in Yosemite. The earliest photographers had no firm tradition or established masters to follow. They were pioneers in the medium and felt no need to be “artistic.” Their concern was to present what was already there. This they did to remarkable effect with their cumbersome plate cameras, and the work of Carleton Watkins and Eadweard Muybridge from the 1860s remains fresh and alive today. Robertson believes that it is with Ansel Adams that Yosemite and the Sierra find their greatest interpreter. When we see an Adams print we see no straight portrait, but a Yosemite caught in an instant of time and presented as a vision. I believe Robertson is correct when he states that Adams’ Yosemite pictures are not simply art of regional or national importance, but art of international significance. But is there life after Adams? Happily Robertson shows that there is, and includes several present-day photographs of great merit.

This is a book that every lover of the North American landscape should obtain.

CHRIS JONES

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Koma Kulshan: The Story of Mt. Baker. John C. Miles. The Mountaineers, Seattle, 1984. 232 pages, black and white photographs, sketches, maps, bibliography. $9.95.

Koma Kulshan was an Indian name for Mount Baker, the 10,778-foot volcanic peak in the northwest comer of Washington State. The name is believed to refer to the fact that the top appears damaged by an explosion or shooting. The name Baker is for a naval officer who served under Captain Vancouver.

John Miles’ story includes not only the mountain itself, but also the entire surrounding region. It is told in comprehensive and highly entertaining detail. Miles goes into the history of the area and of the people who lived or traveled there: explorers, trappers, loggers, developers, foresters, skiers and mountain climbers. Among the activities of the climbers are tales of first ascents, new routes, accidents and rescues.

Mount Baker was first climbed in 1868 by an Englishman, Edmund T. Coleman. The ascent in those days was a two-week expedition. At various times, the approach involved transportation by steamer, railway, horseback, Indian canoe, and a great deal of bushwhacking on foot. Indian guides and porters were sometimes employed. Equipment included ropes, alpine stocks, ice axes and ice “creepers.” Less conventional gear sometimes came into play in these early days. A difficult new route in 1892 was made by a solo climber who cut steps with his rifle!

One of the more astonishing chapters deals with the marathons of 1911, 1912 and 1913, sponsored by the Mount Baker Club of Bellingham. They were part of a tourist festival intended to stir up interest in the area. The races started at the Chamber of Commerce in Bellingham, went to the summit, some forty- five miles eastward, and ended back in Bellingham. Until the first marathon, the record time over this distance was thirty-three hours.

Contestants had a choice of two routes, leaving Bellingham by either high- way or railroad. Thereafter, they still had an elevation gain of 9700 feet by trail and glacier to the summit. The race started in late evening and the glacier run was made in the night, when supposedly the snow was in better condition. The eventual return to Bellingham seemed at times more disastrous than the glacier run. One racer lost first place when his railway car was derailed after hitting a bull on the tracks. He completed the route by horse and buggy, horseback and automobile. In the 1911 race, the winner’s time was twelve hours and twenty- eight minutes, and his prize was $100 and a buffalo robe.

Miles has dealt clearly with the sheer multitude and variety of activities in the Baker region. The continuing conflict of interests between developers, com- mercial interests and conservationists is well detailed and includes various vain attempts to have the Mount Baker area become part of the National Park system.

As for the physical aspects of the book, the pages seem somewhat crowded. The wonderful collection of historical photographs and sketches unfortunately are reproduced in such a way that many of them appear gray, pallid and without contrast. In some of them, important features are barely discernible. None- theless, they add greatly to the information and pleasure of this fine work.

RUTHD. MENDENHALL

BOOK REVIEWS

The Climber’s Guide to North America. Volume I: West Coast Rock Climbs. John Harlin III. Chockstone Press, Denver, 1984. 358 pages, black and white photographs, drawings, route diagrams, maps, bibliography. $22.00.

John Harlin has embarked on an ambitious project: a guide to the major rock climbing areas of North America. This first volume covers the West Coast, from Mount Woodson in the south to Squamish Chief in the north. The aim of this guide is to convey enough information about each area to enable a visitor to get to the rock and climb some of the better routes without the reconnaissance and uncertainty usually involved in visiting a new area. The owner of the guide will no longer be at the mercy of sometimes reticent locals in obtaining information about some of the best areas in the continent. Each area is described by photos with line drawings of some climbs, camping information, a summary of weather patterns and a brief climbing history.

The guide is an unqualified success and will be obligatory for strangers to these regions or those who simply want to browse through it to enliven a winter’s evening with thoughts of warm rock. While there will be the inevitable grum- bling about popularizing some of the areas described, such as Red Rocks and the Needles, I believe the guide should be beneficial in spreading some of the climbing population to lesser-known areas instead of only Joshua Tree and Yosemite. Foreign climbers, especially, will benefit as the guide will enable them to appreciate North America in a different light-most return to their homelands with only the stereotypical Yosemite experience of big walls, noise and crowds.

A bonus is the small section covering bouldering areas. For climbers who must travel on business or have only a short time in an urban area such as Los Angeles or San Francisco, the guide points the way to the boulders for a quick workout. Previously, information about local bouldering areas was difficult to obtain. The guide thus fills a large information gap.

Besides the omission of some obvious areas, such as Mexico’s Gran Trono Blanco, my only criticism of the book is the quality of a few photos. The Tahquitz-Suicide area suffers especially as many of the photos are out of focus. However, most of the other photos are striking enough to make the fingertips itch with eagerness to sample some of the delightful climbs of the West Coast. I look forward to Volumes II and III.

RICK ACOMAZO

Wasatch Rock Climbs. Les Ellison and Brian Smoot. The American Alpine Club, New York, 1984. 302 pages, black and white photographs, sketch maps. $14.50.

This is an excellent guidebook that has been well received among Utah climb- ers. Visitors will find the descriptions and maps both accurate and useful. Locals will find a huge number of new route additions to explore compared with pre- vious guides. All significant areas in the Wasatch granite are covered, including

THE AMERICAN ALPINE JOURNAL 1985

Little Cottonwood Canyon, Lone Peak and Big Willow Cirques, Bells Canyon, Ferguson Canyon, Hound’s Tooth, Pfeifferhom and Hogum Fork.

The authors, Les Ellison and Brian Smoot, who have climbed extensively throughout the Wasatch, were careful to seek a consensus on route ratings from other climbers, and they have checked out descriptions by personally climbing almost every route in this guidebook. George Lowe, an early pioneer in the Wasatch, wrote the foreword and Mike Bogart contributed a section on the geology. The authors and Dave Smith, who wrote the former guidebook, have written an interesting and readable summary on Wasatch climbing history. Clean climbing, concern for the environment, and a high standard of ethics for first ascents are appropriately emphasized.

The route photographs am numerous and well marked, adding significantly to the clarity of the guide. The climbing photographs are terrific and many are historical gems. Helpful route, cliff and grade indexes are included. As climb- ing activity continues to intensify on the Wasatch granite, with new routes and areas being explored, it is to be hoped that Ellison and Smoot will author future editions as needed.

DAVID BLACK

The Red Rocks of Southern Nevada. Joanne Urioste. The American Alpine Club, New York, 1984.252 pages, black and white photographs, drawings, route diagrams, sketch maps. $14.00.

Burlesque, lost wages, racketeering, polyester-clad mid-westerners and enough lights to prompt further studies on fusion-these are my immediate associations with Las Vegas, the point of entry to the Red Rocks which tower in the desert air some thirty miles due west of the “Strip.” A fantastic, world-class climbing area is not admitted by the Vegas ideal, but it certainly exists. Follow- ing nigh on fifteen years of extensive exploration on walls sometimes upward of 1600 feet, this new guide tells all.

Those aspiring to the convenience and casualness of the bumper belays of a Joshua Tree or Boulder Canyon should be forewarned that adventure is the byword, for the bulk of the routes wander up rocks of varying caliber, usually situated in one of many canyons, sometimes located one to four miles from the tarmac. The climber/adventurers will be astonished by the area’s treasures, especially those disposed towards big free climbs. The Red Rocks is rife with thrillers-the rock most times good, sometimes great and many times bad.

The Urioste guide employs the unfashionable technique of providing geo- graphical locations by a combination of line drawings and master photos with key lines inked in; no doubt this is the best format. The substance was provided by a slew of local underground guides and ad-hoc notebooks streamlined into the current text in a cogent, professional format. Joanne has done her homework and the guide well reflects the effort.

As is often the case, the author has had a hand in many (the bulk) of the recorded routes, several of which were done in rather unusual style and recorded

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with no mention of shenanigans. While virtually all the routes have since been repeated, there may still be a few that will cause the unwitting a minor debacle if ascended in a traditional manner. Of more importance is the spate of new routes following Richard Harrison’s removal to Vegas, a move that almost exactly corresponded with the publication of the guide. Since the guide suggests the possibility of additions or supplements, I hope that Part II will soon appear. The area certainly deserves it!

JOHNLONG

Climbing and Hiking in Ecuador. Bob Rachowiecki. Bradt Enterprises, Cam- bridge, 1984. 160 pages, 9 black and white illustrations, 21 sketch maps, color map. $10.95.

Die Schneeberge Ecuadors. Marco Cruz. Eigenverlag, Niimberg, 1983. 175 pages, 14 color and 53 black and white photographs, 30 maps and line draw- ings. DM 36.

Por 10s Andes de1 Ecuador. Jorge Anhalzer and Ramiro Navarrete. Ediciones Campo Abierto, Quito, 1983. 172 pages, 120 color photographs, 8 black and white drawings. Approximately $35.00.

Despite a mere twenty-five ice peaks in its realm, Ecuador has received wide coverage in books and journals. The reasons for this are clearly the beauty of the high country, its historical interest (Humboldt, Bolivar and Whymper) and its easy access. It is no surprise, then, that three new books have been added to the already extensive literature.

Of the first two, Rachowiecki’s has the more complete text: a well-organized work covering general information on Ecuador and basic hints for tourists and hikers, followed by a regional breakdown: central valley, western and eastern ranges, and the western and eastern lowlands and jungles. It also contains ap- pendices on heights and on useful Spanish terms. The illustrations-all drawn from Whymper’s classic-are scanty, however. Each major mountain group is covered in a sketch map with up-to-date information on roads and huts.

Cruz’s The Snow Mountains of Ecuador is in German and covers the high country only. It is also arranged by ranges: western and eastern cordilleras, the inter-Andean area (Rachowiecki’s “central valley”) and the eastern sub-Andean region (with volcanoes Reventador and Sumaco). Photographs are both plenti- ful and excellent, most of them taken by Cruz himself, an Ecuadorian tourism expert and professional mountain guide. To complement the sketch maps, he added good line drawings of most peaks and routes.

Both guidebooks will meet the needs of visitors to the Ecuadorian moun- tains, but it must be kept in mind that while Rachowiecki’s is better designed for the traveler and hiker, Cruz’s is more suited to the trekker and the expeditionary climber.

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The authors of the third book, Anhalzer and Navarrete, are both expert Ecuadorian climbers whose combined experience includes ascents in Asia, Alaska and Europe as well as in some other Andean countries. Theirs is mainly a pictorial work, concentrating on the peaks of Cayambe, Cotopaxi, Chim- borazo, Altar and Sangay, but covering along the way many other mountains. The book is a large one, quart0 size, printed in Spanish, English and German, with nearly all of its fine photos in color. The shots of Cotopaxi and the Altar massif are particularly attractive for their topographical detail. There are also several photos of very respectable unclimbed walls.

Although two of these books are guidebooks and the third is largely picto- rial, they complement one another in the information they provide on Ecuador and its mountains.

EVELIO ECHEVARR~A

Rock Climbing in France: Locations and Descriptions of 279 Crags. Jean- Pierre Bouvier. Diadem Books, London, 1984. 72 pages, maps. f4.95.

My grandmother (and probably yours too) always said, “There’s a place for everything and everything in its place.” The same can be said for books: “There’s a reason for books and every book has its reason.”

With Rock Climbing in France, which briefly describes 279 different cliffs, I looked high and low for its reason to claim a place in an American or British climber’s library. Perhaps someone other than French locals really wants to know where Rocher d’Octon (a 15-meter-high, green, igneous cliff that’s half submerged) is. But I don’t. When in France, I went to the classic climbing areas such as Boux, Sainte Victoire and the Verdon. Only if you have done these and other big crags and want to explore the small outcrops in the far comers of France could this book be for you. For the popular crags, Climbing and Moun- tain will get you there just as well. And you can spend the price of the book on le vin, les dames et la chanson.

TODD SWAIN

Rock Climbing in Britain. David Jones. Collins Willow, London, 1984. 192 pages, black and white and color photographs, charts, diagrams, map, glos- sary. E20.00.

If I were Mick Lovatt, I’d be happy. Mick was lucky enough to get two beautiful action pictures of himself on the front and back covers of this new book. You may ask why a book reviewer would particularly care about cover photos. The answer is that there’s truth in packaging. In fact, this is the first book on climbing that is fantastic from cover to cover.

Rock Climbing in Britain is a cross between Climb! and Yosemite Climber. Not only are the pictures in this book some of the best ever, the text is good too. When you’ve finally overindulged in the one hundred 8 x 11 color plates, you

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can turn to the chapter on training and follow your visual gluttony with a pre- scribed British workout for “expert” climbers. (At last, we find out the secret of how all those runty Brits arc able to climb so well!) There are also excellent chapters on climbing walls, bouldering, gear, grading and, a thirty-one-page history of rock climbing in Great Britain.

Rock Climbing in Britain is a modem classic that belongs on everyone’s coffee table. It’s expensive-but well worth saving for.

TODD SWAIN

Cervin: Belle Epoque. Gaston Rebuffat. Grand Vents, Geneve, 1983. French text. 168 pages, black and white and color illustrations. 150F.

However it is called, the classically shaped Cervin-Cervino-Matterhorn must be among the best known peaks in the world. In Cervin: Belle Epoque, Gaston Rebuffat graphically illustrates its allure for climber and nonclimber alike with only minimal text so that it is not necessary to read French in order to enjoy the book.

The introduction briefly outlines the mountain’s history, including the oblig- atory account of Whymper’s much-described first ascent in 1865. Following this, the reader is treated to a pictorial review of some less familiar aspects of the peak. To begin with, there is the section “Gazette, publicite et chanson”-not exactly wine, woman and song, but nevertheless appealing. Included in it is the title page for the “Journal de Zermatt,” hotel cards and stamps. On all of these, naturally, the Matterhorn is prominent. For the musically inclined, it is em- blazoned on the covers of such songs as “Queen of the Alps” and ‘Song of the Alpine Storms.”

For the historically oriented, there is a chapter on Vittorio Sella, whose mountain photographs still rank among the best. For visual types, there are posters galore, ranging from charming turn-of-the-century concoctions filled with every conceivable alpine motif to a wonderfully sleek and streamlined 1930’s vision of a skier silhouetted against the peak. Even the more modem images are suffused with a romantic aura that typifies the book as a whole.

One of the most delightful chapters is devoted to postcards of the Matterhom in solitary splendor, of romantic castles and edelweiss, and of improbably garbed visitors in all manner of poses.

As with his memorable Chamonix-Mont Blanc 1900, Rebuffat has once again put together a nostalgic volume that tugs at the heartstrings, even of those too young to remember. Through his astute choice of visual images, he has brought fresh perceptions to a very old subject. Cervin: Belle Epoque is both a delight for the eye and a feast for the spirit.

PATRICIA A. FLETCHER

360 THE AMERICAN ALPINE JOURNAL 1985

First Across the Roof of the World. Graeme Dingle and Peter Hillary. Hodder and Stoughton, Auckland, 1983. 232 pages, color photographs, maps. f9.95.

In these days of ultradistance exploits in many sports, it is intriguing to discover another type of ultra event to test the limits of physical and psychological endur- ance. The event described in this book is a trek from one end of the Himalayas to the other-from Sikkim to Pakistan. This ten-month adventure covered 5CKKl kilometers and provided a good dose of pain and suffering to the participants. Completion of this traverse, like other alpine accomplishments, had little prac- tical value, but it was an exciting odyssey. It was interesting to follow the day to day progress and to learn of the complications encountered in putting together the continuous, high-altitude route. Having travelled on many segments of the route, I found it intriguing to learn how the pieces fit together to make the “super trek.”

The photographs in this book am superb. The continuous maps are. informa- tive and the descriptions realistic and colorful. The concept of going alpine style, rather than using porters, certainly added to the accomplishment. The authors provide practical advice on equipment and survival in the appendices. For anyone who has visited the Himalayas or hopes to do so, this book gives an excellent overview of the entire region as well as an entertaining story.

GENE F. WHITE

Catalogue of the Himalayan Literature. Second Edition. Yoshimi Yakushi. Hakusuisha Publishing Co., Tokyo, 1984. 759 pages. Y19,ooO.

In 1972 Yoshimi Yakushi, compiler and editor of the present catalogue, encour- aged by his mentor Mr. Kyuya Fukata (Vice President of the Japanese Alpine Club during the last years of his life), privately published his Catalogue of the Himalayan Literature in a limited 500-copy edition that quickly sold out. That catalogue was a bold first attempt to assemble a comprehensive bibliography of the many varied books published over the years in different countries of the world.

This new catalogue is a revised, corrected and enlarged version of its prede- cessor, yet of broadly similar content. It now lists more than 4600 books and some 100 maps and is divided into two main parts: the first, in English, dealing with books in European languages; the second, in Japanese. The first part has 3752 titles in all, each provided with full bibliographical details, not just of the original editions, but also of those translated into foreign languages. Of great value is the brief explanation of the contents of almost every book. Whereas books emanating from Eastern Europe are well represented, those in Russian or Chinese are not included because of the difficulties in obtaining enough accurate information about them.

The map section-which excludes those of the Survey of India and similar seriesdeals only with maps of this century. These maps are arranged in geo-

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graphical sequence from east to west, a logical order that may, however, test the inconstant memory of some. The pity is there is no overall map to help situate the remoter mountain ranges or the principal peaks.

What gives the second, Japanese, part a very special interest is that the bibliographical information is also given in English. Alas, it is not easy for those in the West to ascertain, let alone to read, what has been published in Japan-the country that sends more expeditions to the Himalaya and China than any other. Extremely few Japanese mountaineering books appear in any European language. The few books and journals that do contain English summaries that all too often do no more than whet one’s appetite.

Although this catalogue is aimed at the mountaineer and traveler, its inter- ests go beyond the sheer logistics of expedition organization or the calibration of peaks and embrace the very fabric and life of the Himalaya and its people. Whether one wishes to read about Khotan carpets or K2, about Tibetan tankas or Trisul, all are represented within these pages.

Both Yoshimi Yakushi and his publisher, Hakusuisha, are deserving of our gratitude. The former for his proficiency and perseverence over many years in assembling and presenting this wealth of information with such clarity and accuracy, and the latter for having produced a tome that is well laid out, clearly printed, strongly bound and a pleasure to consult.

LOUIS BAUME

Everest: The Ultimate Challenge 1922-1982. A stereo sound history of sixty years of struggle to climb the world’s highest mountain. Quarry Lane Productions, P.O. Box 1237, Alexandria, Ontario KOC 1AO $9.99 (U.S.) including postage.

If one can cut through the heraldic trumpets and heavy choral back- grounds, there is some good stuff here: reminiscing voices of Odell, Hunt, Scott, Habeler, Messner and that absolutely natural performer, Ed Hillary. My favorite passage is writer Jan Morris’ eagle-eyed observation of the camp scene as Hillary and Lowe descend into the camp. Alas, when the memorabilia is good, it is too quickly over. The musical themes out of the film Chariots ofFire resume their ponderous way; the narrative goes for the heartstrings over good factual reporting.

“WASPS on Everest” is the hidden subtitle of this tape cassette. With the exception of Habeler and Messner, everyone interviewed is to English born. The only non-English speaking expeditions referred to at all on the history, and then only in passing, are the Swiss in 1952, the Chinese first ascent of the North Face, and the first woman, a Japanese, to make the summit. The story also spends a tedious time raking up the Francophobia of the 1971 CHEKC Inter- national Expedition.

told The point of this ethnocentrism unfolds towards the end, however. We are nothing of the exploits of the Indians, the Italians, the Swiss, the Poles, the

Yugoslavs, the French and half a dozen other nationalities simply, by omission,

362 THE AMERICAN ALPINE JOURNAL 1985

to add lustre to the very common o’ garden results of the Canadians in 1982, with which the story closes. Unfortunately any glory that attends the telling of the Canadian effort has to be at the price of insulting hundreds of non-WASPS who got there sooner and climbed Everest more valiantly.

JOHNTHACKRAY

Mount Everest: A jigsaw puzzle, 20” X 29”, loo0 pieces. Heian International Inc. $7.95.

Just ideal for the jaded armchair mountaineer, this magnificent panorama of the South Face with neighboring Lhotse dappled in alpenglow is from a photo by Shiro Shirahata. It is hard to assemble, but rewarding. Not only does it give one a feeling kindred to route finding-at no cost in calories-but can bring one to a very precious, intimate feeling for the mountain.

JOHNTHACKRAY

Going Higher: the Story of Man at Altitude. Charles S. Houston, M.D. Pub- lished by Charles S. Houston, M.D., 77 Ledge Road, Burlington, Vermont 05401, 288 pages; illustrated with drawing, black-and-white photographs and 8 pages of color photographs. Appendices, Index. $10.00

Charles Houston is one of the world’s leading mountain scientists and his publi- cation in 1960 in the New England Journal of Medicine of a paper on High Altitude Pulmonary Edema focused the attention of both doctors and mountain- eers to the occurrence of this important clinical entity.

This, the second edition of his book, Going High, contains recent advances that have taken place in mountain medicine. Many of these have been presented and discussed at regular meetings in North America at two-yearly intervals organized by Charles Houston and John Sutton. The latest was at Chateau Lake Louise in Alberta, Canada in February 1985. These have been a meeting place for physiologists, physicians, mountaineers and rescue workers from all over the world and by their existence have stimulated research.

The clinical section of this book has been expanded whilst the physiological section gives up-to-date information in an easily understood form. The histori- cal part, which has not changed much, is an excellent account of man’s faltering attempts to understand his natural environment and how this has been vital to his exploration of the high mountains. The anecdotal comments on the intellectual giants makes them more human and understandable and also underlines the fact that discoveries come often in illogical surges rather than as a steady flow.

The last part of the book has what may be its most important practical application, namely a chapter and notes on who may not go high. The chapter

BOOK REVIEWS

on women at altitude is probably opposite at the present time, but in later edi- tions may be incorporated into the general text. In later editions too it might be worthwhile saying more about cold injury, for it is the combination of cold and high altitude which is particularly lethal and which imposes severe limitations on performance.

All those who are interested or who go into the mountains for work or leisure can read this book with profit and it has given me great pleasure to review it.

MICHAEL WARD, M.D., Alpine Club

The Shishapangma Expedition. Doug Scott and Alex MacIntyre. The Moun- taineers, Seattle, 1984. 332 pages, black and white photographs, maps, appendices, bibliography. $18.95.

The late Alex MacIntyre and Doug Scott’s account of their expedition to climb the 80 12-meter Shishapangma by its unexplored southwest face is both fascinat- ing and unusual-in large part because all six of the team members contribute to the narrative. As a result, the strengths, the weaknesses, the humor, the bickering and backbiting are all there.

The team is often at odds with one another. At one extreme is MacIntyre, quick to challenge anyone or anything that comes in the way of his overriding goal-an alpine ascent of the face. As MacIntyre writes, “The wall was the ambition, the style became the obsession.” At the opposite pole is Elaine Brook, not experienced in Himalayan climbing, but passionately interested in the coun- try and its people. Then there’s Nick Prescott, the main organizer for the expe- dition, who also lacks experience. He and Elaine find themselves excluded as MacIntyre, Roger Baxter-Jones, and Scott prepare for their southwest face ef- fort. An inevitable schism breaks out. MacIntyre is brutally honest-Elaine and Nick should take a walk. Scott tries, with only limited success, to act as a go-between. Baxter-Jones prefers to leave the controversy to others. Once on the climb, however, there is only minor friction over such things as route finding and Baxter-Jones’ placement of Scott’s prized titanium piton.

The book includes one hundred pages of appendices. Much of this material might have been incorporated in the text or, in some cases, omitted altogether. Appendix V, which reveals Scott’s holistic views on medicine, is interesting, but Appendix I, “Early Buddhism in Tibet and Milarepa” is, at best, sketchy.

The Shishapangma story is more than a conventional account of an expedi- tion. The interweaving of several voices throughout the text gives it the ring of truthfulness rare in this genre.

ANDY TUTHILL

364 THE AMERICAN ALPINE JOURNAL 1985

The Selkirks-Nelson’s Mountains. John F. Garden. Introduction by William Lowell Putnam. Footprint Publishing, Revelstoke, BC, 1984. 144 pages. 119 color photographs. 1 map. $29.95 (Canadian).

In his introduction, Bill Putnam says, “This is the book I once set out to write.” Would that he had, rather than leaving the task to John Garden! The author’s prose, when it is not absolutely leaden, is awkward, puerile, and unintentionally ungrammatical. Vide a sentence like, “To each climber, different rational, dif- ferent feelings, and different reasons are entertained.” Or, “As I became in- volved in mountain activities, many including family and friends, have ex- pressed their fears of venturing into what they consider to be an entirely hostile and dangerous environment.” Not surprisingly, the best prose is found where the author quotes at length from Howard Palmer’s descriptions of his first as- cents of Mount Sir Sandford and Mount Adamant. But, of course, one can savor writing of that quality by reading Palmer’s book rather than this one.

One could perhaps excuse such bad writing if the experiences and exploits being described were of a spectacular or significant caliber. Not that the Selkirks should be scorned by the dedicated amateur mountaineer, but the few ascents actually described in any detail in this book are standard routes. In his foreword, the author lists as an objective “to present the human dimension of the alpine experience”. Only once does he even try-in writing about an ill-considered and unsuccessful attempt on the fabled northwest a&e of Mount Sir Donald. But his account is replete with “exciting”, “enjoyable”, “impressive”, etc, and his part- ner never takes on an identity. Although I, too, have had an epic or two on that mountain, I was appalled to read that this party of two, staring at first light from the Uto-Sir Donald co1 (not the Wheeler Hut 4000 feet lower), would find it necessary to turn back at two P.M.(!) with the summit still an hour away. And then they failed to get off before nightfall forced a bivouac! True, it is of such ill-fated adventures that great tales are told. Too bad one wasn’t.

A few more caveats, should the prospective reader need any. The text is studded with factual information, mostly of an historical nature, information which is more effectively and completely presented in other works, such as Esther Forbes’ The Canadian Rockies: Early Travels and Explorations, (1969). There is evident an undertone of Canadian chauvinism. This, despite the fact that much of the exploration and most of the major ascents in the Selkirks were achieved by Americans.

The photographs are absolutely stunning. As mentioned in the heading, there are 119 of them, all of excellent quality. Most are landscapes, in keeping with Ruskin’s dictum that mountains are the beginning and end of natural scenery. The few climbing shots appear to be “posed”, and thus lack the “heart-in-mouth” quality typical of the best of this genre. The photographs of wildlife are particularly remarkable, as good as any National Geographic has printed. And anyone who can make Ross Peak (!) and Mount Green look like giants of the Karakoram knows how to use a camera! Would that he were half so able with a typewriter, What we really have here-stripped of all its

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unfulfilled pretensions-is what Edmonton publisher Mel Hurtig once described to me as “a coffee-table book”. So, for $30 Canadian ($22.50 US as of this writing), you can impress your guests with gorgeous pictures of some mountains you may have climbed.

ROBERT KRUSZYNA