Outdoor Reading, Part One

I'm pretty partial to the outdoors in general.  I haven't really found anything that can't be remedied by a little fresh air and lots of nature.  There's so much to distract with a step outside--thoughts of the complexities, beauties, incredible systems of order (and disorder).  When preparing to embark on a trip to the beach earlier this month, I armed myself with some beach reading with the outdoors theme.  While I just finished one of the two and am just beginning the other, I can confidently say that neither has been a disappointment.

The climbing culture is one that fascinates me.  Perhaps one of the most fascinating moments I've had was watching Alex Honnold's interview on 60 Minutes.  This guy was the embodiment of no fear. This way of living is very interesting to me because I would judge that my own personal level of fear at any given moment is pretty high.  I'm the type that always tries to think like 20 steps ahead to avoid disaster--and disaster in my book could be defined as missing a dinner ingredient.  This is probably why I have not become one with the climbing culture.  After years of hearing bits and pieces about Jon Krakauer's personal account of the 1996 Everest disaster, I finally picked up a copy of Into Thin Air.  Before hitting the thick of the storm that would become the disaster, I was partially convinced that life would not be complete without a trek to the top of the world.  After the first-hand account of all that went wrong, along with all of the smaller things that always go wrong but just don't add up to qualify as disaster material, I was humbled by the relative safety of my everyday life--and even what I consider to be adventures!  Krakauer takes time to explain a lot of history, which is interesting, and he also details the evolution of the commercialized Everest climb.  The latter, in fact, was the primary motivation for Outdoor magazine funding Krakauer's trip to make the climb with a guided group.  Much to his shock, it would end up an event that would rock his world, and he'd never be the same.

Coming out of the read, I had a lot of mixed feelings.  I am always a critic of commercializing anything.  The problem with Everest is that it has become something trendy to do (with your tens of thousands of dollars), but unlike piercing your belly button or deciding to go vegan, it can actually consume the untrained (as well as the trained).  In my book, this makes it enough to not do it.  However, to take it a step further, there is also the natural outcome of commercializing--trash.  The mountain has become littered with empty oxygen canisters, among other human refuse.  The counter to these problems, though, is that the climbing industry has brought the sherpa industry, which in turn, benefits local families.  I won't get into the general economic boost for the countries surrounding Everest because as is also par for the course, the cost for licenses to climb has sky-rocketed--I would call this government corruption, but I'm sure others have different labels for it.

Overall, this is an interesting read.  It's a bit of a glimpse into the climbing culture, the climbing guide industry and, of course, Everest.  It does not have a warm, fuzzy ending and is quite unsettling at times, so if you pick it up, brace yourself.  Next post will cover my more recently started and much lighter read--A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson.