- Lukas Mann
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- on the art of alpinism ⛰️
on the art of alpinism ⛰️
the greatest metaphor for life.
read time: 8 minutes
"Alpinism is the art of climbing mountains by confronting the greatest dangers with the greatest prudence. Art is used here to mean the accomplishment of knowledge in action. You cannot stay on the summit forever. You have to come down again. So what's the point? There is an art to finding your way in the lower regions by the memory of what you have seen when you were higher up. When you can no longer see, you can at least still know."
Marc-Andre Leclerc charging up an arete high on the famed Torre Egger in Patagonia. Photo by Austin Siadak.
Alpinism: the art of climbing mountains, involving significant exposure to technical terrain in alpine environments.
There’s a primal desire to climb.
An age-old instinct, perhaps.
Since the dawn of recorded human history, humans have always felt drawn to the high places.
We have records of notable first ascents dating back well into the 1300s and 1400s, in the European Alps and Pyrenees.
Not only that, but religious sites were often built high up on mountainsides.
The Tengboche Monastery, in the shadow of Ama Dablam in the Himalayas.
The Madonna Della Corona, built into the side of a mountain in Italy.
The Abune Yemanta Church, carved into the sandstone rock high in the Ethiopian mountains.
In almost every stripe of religious belief, there’s always been an association of the high places with the divine.
It shouldn’t surprise us, then, that people have been climbing mountains for about as long as we’ve been keeping historical records.
The human race has always felt a connection to the mountains.
In recent decades, our technology and communications have exploded and the pursuit of alpinism has become popular across the globe.
Climbing has gone from the lowly pursuit of vagabonds to one of the most high-profile sports in the world.
Movies like Free Solo, Dawn Wall, and The Alpinist have taken centre stage in the entertainment industry, and people like Alex Honnold and Jimmy Chin have become household names.
Yet the question still remains… why do we climb?
At first glance it seems like one of the most frivolous, expensive, dangerous activities that exists.
And yet the pursuit of climbing mountains has captivated human beings for as long as we’ve been around.
Here’s a stab at some answers to this age-old question.
*disclaimer: I’m nowhere near the level of an experienced climber. While I’ve started to dip my feet into the world of alpinism, I still have much to learn and my writing on the subject is indicative of my experience; I’m a beginner.
We climb to be humbled.
In a modern culture all too concerned with issues of identity, the mountains stand staunchly indifferent.
The mountains don’t care who you are. They don’t care where you’re from, what you look like, or how much money you have.
*The money part is debatable… but even the fanciest gear that money can buy won’t get you to the summit by itself.
All that matters is how capable you are. And even then, the most capable alpinists are often turned around by factors out of their control.
Looking back at my two climbing partners, halfway up a first (recorded) winter ascent in the Coastal Mountains.
Anyone who tells you the mountains are blissful havens of nature have never been in the mountains.
Yes, the mountains are beautiful… but they’re also dangerous beyond belief.
They’re brutally honest. They will chew you up and spit you out if you’re not ready.
And there’s something refreshing about that.
The rules are simple. Stay alive, at all cost. No summit is worth a life, whether your own or someone else’s.
The mountains are the ultimate feedback mechanism. And without feedback, we never improve at anything.
Inevitably, spending time in the mountains will humble you.
We climb because there’s risk.
Every time you step foot on a mountain, your life goes from horizontal to vertical. All the rules change.
It’s the great juxtaposition. We want to live long, happy, and fulfilled lives. And yet more often than not, the activities that bring us deep joy are also the activities that can kill us.
But is it really a juxtaposition?
The safe life is mostly an illusion. Nothing is guaranteed in life… just walk into your local hospital and find the cancer care wing.
There is definitely such a thing as unreasonable risk.
But there is also such a thing as unreasonable safety: a desire for safety so strong that it prevents you from really living at all.
“The dangers of life are infinite, and among them is safety.”
The rewards are spectacular, but the consequences can be fatal.
So we climb.
Not blindly, but with our eyes wide open. Aware of the risk, and yet aware that without the risk we wouldn’t be there in the first place.
We climb because climbing feels like life itself.
“If adventure has a final and all-embracing motive, it is surely this: we go out because it is our nature to go out, to climb mountains, and to paddle rivers, to fly to the planets and plunge into the depths of the oceans… When man ceases to do these things, he is no longer man.”
Just like life, you can’t reduce everything about climbing to a science.
There’s an art to alpinism.
Sure, aspects like fitness and preparedness can be systemized and tracked.
But the greatest alpinists are not merely fit and prepared.
They’re filled with tenacity. Humility. Purpose.
They know their place in the mountains. They know when to push forward, and when to pull back.
They negotiate with themselves, but never with the mountain. There is never any negotiating with the mountain.
They know the mountains are unfair… but they know life is too.
They’re ever-present, always tuned in to what is going on around them.
Tommy Caldwell, high up on the walls of the Yosemite Valley.
These are traits that are developed, slowly and surely, after years of experience in the mountains.
Alpinism is an infinite game. One that cannot be lost or won, where continuing to play is the object of the game itself.
A bit like life, perhaps.
Maybe, just maybe, we climb because it is the greatest metaphor for life that there is.
“I feel a hint of pity for those who don’t get to experience the crisp air and excitement of mountain climbing. Are they ever really awake?”