Mountain anthology offers readers quality but questionable selections

MIKE POTTER BOW VALLEY

The recently published Where the Silence Rings: A Literary Companion to Mountains is a small anthology with some excellent selections but also some questionable inclusions. As well, there are some doubts about the choice of editor for the compilation.

First the good stuff. The most topical excerpts in the book both touch on the subject of wolves, which are currently the target of a proposed control program in Alberta. The piece chosen for this book, from the classic A Sand County Almanac by famed ecologist Aldo Leopold, is titled Thinking Like a Mountain. That phrase alone suggests the wisdom of an holistic approach toward the wilderness, and Leopold makes the point explicit: "Only the mountain has lived long enough to listen objectively to the howl of a wolf." Leopold acknowledges that his insights came after a change of attitude toward wolves, a step that many will have to take in order for wolves to continue to fill their natural roles.

The next excerpt in this collection is from renowned writer Peter Matthiessen's moving book The Snow Leopard. In the end, Matthiessen never sees the elusive predator of the title, but he does observe wolves on his journey in the Himalaya of Nepal. With

well-known conservationist George Schaller, he even watches a hunt of bharal (blue sheep), which though unsuccessful is rewarding to witness. As Schaller is quoted "It was worth walking five weeks just to see that."

Another fine decision for this book was to include David Birney's poem David. A dramatized fiction, it is nevertheless a powerful meditation upon transience among the peaks. There is a local connection here in that Birney was born in Calgary, raised in Banff, and sets the scene on a version of Mt. Louis. Other landmarks mentioned in the poem include Mt. Inglismaldie, the Sundance Range, and

Mt. Assiniboine.

There is also a link to the Rockies in a story about Mt. McKinley (Denali) by Belmore Browne, an artist who spent much time in the area now known as Kananaskis Country.

Other inspiring entries in this anthology include a description of two winter ascents of California's Mt. Shasta by John Muir, a clever spoof of elitism on the crags by H.G. Wells, and a piece about an attempt on the Eiger which is saved from being a rock jock account thanks to the historical context given by author Jon Krakauer (now recognized worldwide for Into Thin Air and Into the Wild).

There are several inclusions in this book, however, that give it an uneven feel. Michael Crichton, creator of Jurassic Park, gives an exaggerated story about trekking on Africa's highest peak. And he is not truthful when he says in the final sentence of his story: "I am at the summit of Kilimanjaro."

While the intention of including a First Nations creation myth is laudable, the one presented - about the origin of the Northern Rockies, from the Dogrib Nation - is not among the 'best' of the genre. An account by John Buchan of a 1906 expedition to The Mountains of the Moon (the Ruwenzori in Uganda) is interesting but derivative from the original in Italian.

Even a piece titled The Holiness of Mountains by Carl Jung leaves much to be desired, brief as it is and not actually touching much on mountains except as water sources. A description of a contemporary trip to Nepal, permeated with complaints, seems a poor choice to end the book. The very title, Maoists and Leeches, shows the emphasis. While it could be said to give an unvarnished portrayal, and while stoicism isn't necessarily a cardinal virtue, there is usually at least something positive about such a journey, if only in hindsight.

So this anthology is a mix of good and disappointing, which is not entirely unexpected. However, what gives cause for pause about this collection is its editor. Wayne Grady is a respected science writer who lives near Kingston, Ontario, and has compiled a companion volume to this book on rivers and lakes. That is well done, but here he seems not to have a particular affinity for mountains, either intrinsically or as the topic at hand.

For example, the opening excerpt in the book is by Edward Whymper, who climbed in the Rockies over a century ago. The story of achievement and tragedy on The First Ascent of the Matterhorn is almost universally familiar, yet Grady in his brief intro makes two errors. One concerns the number of climbers who made it to the top, which is perhaps pedantic; the other is a significant mistake in stating that all the alpinists were experienced, for as Whymper mentions it was the "want of experience" of one member of the party that led to the infamous accident.

More telling, though, as indication of the dubious suitability of Grady for the task of assembling this book is an admission in the Introduction. He speaks of feeling a lift to his spirits upon reaching the Rockies on a cross-continent road trip. He says "I wanted to stop and climb, to lose myself in the enclosing cliffs, follow cascading streams up into misted, secluded valleys."

Sounds great. But what actually happens? He tells us near the end of his Intro: "I never did stop my car as I drove through the Rockies, never walked off into the wilderness..." It seems to me that someone lacking the willingness to make such a basic effort, to exhibit a wee bit of curiosity, is an odd person to edit a literary companion to mountains.

While not entirely panning this book, since there are good bits as indicated, I would suggest additional reading by anyone interested in mountain literature. The possibilities include any of Sid Marty's works, Close Calls on High Walls by Mike Schintz, anything by now-departed and much-revered Edmund Hillary, and two collections that focus on mountaineering: Summit Tales by Graeme Pole and The Canadian Mountaineering Anthology by Bruce Fairley.