There are moments when you are climbing in big mountains when you think to yourself: What the hell am I doing here risking my life when I could be home watching television with a cup of tea in my hand?”
The problem with that rationale is that when you are at home watching television with a cup of tea in your hand, you sometimes find yourself asking the question: “What the hell am I doing here when...”
Climbing mountains, especially over snow, ice and rock faces, is a great pleasure and great privilege but there are also downsides.
For one there is the exposure and the unavoidable risks of very steep snow and ice slopes, or petrifying vertiginous drops. Most of my climbing has been done in the French and Swiss Alps at a standard that is relatively moderate but high enough to feel the occasional spasm of fear that pulses through your body and curls your toes.
About six years ago I did the Mitileggi Ridge of the Eiger which was an amazing experience, but one that also contained scores of “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” moments. Those weren’t helped by the first image I saw when I started my hasty research of the ridge two days before we did it a Japanese party photographed moments before they plunged off the ridge to their death in the early 1960s.
And the other thing is that the days are tortuously long 14-16 hours at altitude on the kind of terrain and in the kind of conditions that we bog people aren’t really programmed for. What makes it exhausting is partly the physical exertion but partly the fact that there will be objective dangers along the way and you need to keep your focus and concentration levels high at all times.
It may all sound dismal and dire. Indeed, sometimes it is. I refer to you the first paragraph above.
But there are compensations. I think the frisson of danger (and believe me, I’m a very conservative climber) is one, even though you’re not always thrilled about it when it’s happening. The second is the challenge: what could be simpler in life than achieving that non-abstract and very tangible goal of summitting a high peak).
The third is the technical, physical, and mental aspects climbing on snow and ice; getting up in the middle of the night to climb on crisp snow and ice at altitude; the long walk-ins; route-finding; climbing over rock, making sure you have the right equipment and gear. The fourth is the company – It’s never really a solitary experience in the Alps and there is always humour, especially in adversity.
But the fifth, and possibly the most important, is the majestic landscape and all those simple innocent pleasures it can evoke. If these mountains were churches they would all be Gaudi cathedrals. When you stand beneath these silent snow-capped colossuses, you are simply overwhelmed.
When you summit, the views are eye-caressing and the emotions are eye-welling. All the hardship and toil and fear and exhaustion float away like the clouds.
