Book Reviews

1. A LINE ABOVE THE SKY
2. THE MOUNTAIN PATH
3. THE CHIPKO MOVEMENT - A People’s History
4. CONTESTED LANDS: INDIA, CHINA AND THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE
5. IMAGINARY PEAKS: The Riesenstein Hoax and Other Mountain Dreams
6. Lost in the Valley of Death: A Story of Obsession and Danger in the Himalayas
7. UP THE MOUNTAINS OF INDIA
8. THE CLIMBING BIBLE
9. TONY STREATHER: SOLDIER AND MOUNTAINEER
10. THE FRACTURED HIMALAYA India
11. BORN TO CLIMB
12. INDIAN HIMALAYA.
13. Short Reviews

 

 

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A LINE ABOVE THE SKY
By Helen Mort, Pp 256. 2022 (Ebury Press, UK, Rs 1363.00)

There is a line made by climbing and a line made by falling. There is the flawed line of my body. The parallel lines two bodies make. The line of someone walking into the distance. Someone else moving close. The line of want, the line of touch, of merging. Then there is the line of the pregnancy test, blue as the rope I climb with, slim and unforgettable.

Sometimes a book draws you in. You catch yourself thinking about it at odd moments, notice its presence lingering at the edges of consciousness, find yourself tilting aspects of your own life to view them through this new lens. A Line Above the Sky is one of those books.

Drawing on ideas of being, amongst other things, a woman, a mother, a climber and a fell runner, it is an immersive exploration of the author’s life, set in the present with regular trips to the past. These excursions, transitioning smoothly and naturally between now and then, alight on poignant moments to be unravelled and examined, aiding our understanding of the author’s life experiences, while encouraging us to revisit some of our own.

The story is hewn from rock and earth and soul. It is beautifully, meticulously crafted, with not a word out of place. It is also—as might be expected from an author who lectures in creative writing—a lesson in the craft of writing, delivered by demonstration, the art of showdon’t-tell. This is brave writing, visceral, deeply honest, searching for its own truth at every step. I find reading Helen’s words makes me want to be braver, more searching of truth, meaning and reality in my own writing.

Motherhood, and what it means to be a mother—both self-reflectively and through the critical gaze of others—is perhaps the book’s primary theme. But the rocks and mountains are always there, tempering the warmth and softness of bodies and babies with cold, hard stone. As she endures the hours of labour giving birth to her son, Helen’s mind wanders to the Himalayas, where her friend and climbing partner, Andrew, is scaling Ama Dablam. Pregnancy drove a divide between them, and yet at this intensely vulnerable moment she feels she is there with him, linked by the rope, keeping her safe as she scales the mother mountain.

“The long ridges on each side are the arms of a mother (ama) protecting her child and the hanging glacier is like a double pendant (dablam) worn by Sherpa women.”

As a long-time rock climber, Helen explores her relationship with both the rock itself and her climbing partners over the years. The sport is set as cultural and historical backdrop to her home in Derbyshire and the Peak District, and to her early life, during which time she developed a fascination, bordering on obsession, with mother and mountaineer Alison Hargreaves, who died on K2 when Helen was just ten. The story of Alison’s climbing achievements and her relationship with her children weaves through the book, providing a handrail in the form of a life history and, if you’re familiar with Alison’s story, a sense of growing unease, like a ticking bomb. The historical account is set alongside vignettes, both real and imagined, bringing a sense of being present during encounters on the rock. Sometimes these are with Helen and her climbing partners; other times they are (at least partly) imagined moments with Alison and her son, the late Tom Ballard.

As someone who once climbed a lot, I found the climbing terms enjoyably familiar, almost comforting in their sounds. Like the pleasing clink of racked gear or the clean snap of a quickdraw. Explanations aimed at non-climbers are few and far between, but this preserves the rawness and realness of the narrative. I tried to imagine hearing the words without prior knowledge of their meaning – how would they sound, feel, to a non-climber? I imagine—hope—that they would still hold that same sense of satisfying, onomatopoeic tactility.

That they would still convey a sense of what it is like to be there, in that place at that moment, searching for a sharp edge with nervous fingertips, trusting the elusive friction of gritstone beneath a sticky rubber sole. Had these words been left out, perhaps allowing easier access for a wider audience, the book would be less authentic for it. The same goes for the book’s visceral examination of childbirth and neonatal jaundice, which made me glad that I and my children are well beyond both. But the blood and gore isn’t sensationalized. It’s unashamedly real, and a better book for leaving it in.

Throughout, the author’s academic background—she was awarded a PhD exploring neuroscience and connection-making in contemporary poetry in 2014—underpins her regular examinations of areas related to the main themes of the book. The topics are wideranging, from bears to deepfake pornography, but always serve as a means to illustrate something essential and transcendent—the unacknowledged, sometimes uncomfortable, undercurrents that lie beneath our daily experiences. Its investigation of self and other is thorough; facts are carefully chosen and balanced so as to inform without interrupting the story’s flow. I found its obsessive need for enquiry driving my own obsessiveness, sending me down numerous literary and historical rabbit holes in a quest to know more of, and make whole, the characters that appear along the way.

Finally, there is the line from which the book draws its name – a name that is also a tribute to Tom. But it is not just one line. Many lines run through the narrative, lines of connectedness, of continuity, of inquiry. There are the interrupted lines of some lives, the new and potential lines of others. The line of a route up a rock face; the fragile line of the bond between people, from those closest to us to those we’ve never even met. There is the shifting line between acceptable safety and acceptable risk; and the line we all walk between life and death. The line is present both as an overarching theme and something densely woven through; a thread that draws all the facets of the story together, and does so brilliantly well.

JEN BENSON

 

 

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THE MOUNTAIN PATH
By Paul Pritchard, Pp. 177, 2021. (Vertebrate Publishing, UK GBP 24.

Paul Pritchard’s story has become well known in the climbing community. At the forefront of the British climbing scene in the ‘80s and ‘90s, pushing standards in Snowdonia and on iconic big walls around the world, he added writing to his impressive list of achievements in 1997 with his now-classic collection, Deep Play. But everything changed the following ear, when his skull was smashed by a falling rock while he was climbing on the Totem Pole in asmania. The resulting brain damage left him paralysed down one side, and—as many of his doctors told him—unlikely ever to climb again. His slow, painful recovery, and his subsequent struggle back into the mountains, are told with honest clarity in his books The Totem Pole (1999) and The Longest Climb (2005).

Now, 17 years on, we have what seems, on the face of it, to be a further instalment in an autobiographical series, describing the challenges and journeys (both literal and figurative) of the intervening years. These include a gruelling cycle trip across Tibet and Nepal, the completion of his first post-accident lead climb, and his emotional return to make an ascent of the Totem Pole itself. He also re-treads some old ground, revisiting his development as a climber in Lancashire and Snowdonia, and providing fresh accounts of his earlier near-fatal accidents at Gogarth and Creag Meagaidh, all told with a new maturity and insight. His central point is a powerful and, perhaps, a surprising one: that his disability has proved to be the single best thing to have happened to him, transforming a life of shallow goal-attainment into one of profound understanding.

However, it turns out that The Mountain Path is not really an autobiography at all, at least not in any conventional sense. Instead, it is primarily a discussion of Pritchard’s spiritual and philosophical beliefs, and very much stands alone from his earlier writing. The experiences he describes, whilst significant and thrilling in their own right, function more as starting points for a series of lengthy reflections on the book’s main themes. Inspired by Buddhist teachings and Vipassana meditation techniques, and with The Mountain as an ever-present guide, Pritchard dives deeply into the relationship between fear and pain, exploring how this relationship can teach us to truly live in the moment, and how happiness is found not in freedom of choice but in freedom from the desire caused by too much choice. Although the events of his own life form a useful background, providing examples of extreme challenges from which profound lessons can be learnt, it becomes clear that the point is to look beyond these experiences and to recognize the universality of the book’s spiritual message. This is demonstrated in three later chapters, which (in a neat echo of the Buddhist rejection of ego) abandon the writer’s own perspective entirely, instead placing the reader at the centre of a day in the mountains, on the approach, preparation, and execution of an imaginary climb. These chapters act as meditations on the themes already explored, demonstrating the practical applications of mindfulness and the radical acceptance of fear, as well as the humility that arises from a recognition of our place in the universe.

All of this is achieved with a newly-mature approach to both structure and writing style, rejecting conventional chronology and instead following the logical path of the writer’s intellectual development. Gripping though Pritchard’s first three books are, the command of language in The Mountain Path adds an extra depth which suits the subject matter perfectly, reflecting the writer’s spirituality in a constantly engaging manner. The narrative opens and closes with his triumphant arrival at the summit of the Totem Pole, providing a circularity which is satisfyingly appropriate, and many of the chapters share a pleasingly similar internal structure, beginning and ending at moments of drama and revelation. The lessons learnt along the way are placed within an erudite scholarly context not often found in mountain literature, with references as diverse as the Bhagavad Gita, Friedrich Nietzsche and Douglas Adams. The effect—appropriately enough—is to position the narrative within the wider scope of the interconnectedness of all things. It’s fair to say (as Hazel Findlay suggests in her excellent introduction) that writing about climbing can sometimes be a bit matter-of-fact, perhaps only of interest to those of us already on board with the significance of what is being described. Pritchard emphatically avoids this through an insistence on the universal qualities of his experiences, and by reflecting these truths in the richness of his writing.

Indeed, it is this same universalizing quality which reflects a further important aspect of this book: the fact that we need to be careful about finding inspiration in these types of stories, with their clichés of triumph over tragedy. This type of narrative risks reducing the issue of disability to one of either dehumanizing pity or superhuman achievement—extremes which many disabled people find deeply unhelpful, even actively damaging in the fight for social equality. Pritchard’s writing skilfully sidesteps this trap through his relentlessly humanizing perspective, never indulging in self-pity, always allowing the poignancy of his situation to emerge organically, free of any trace of sentimentality. His story has not been one of striving to regain what was lost, but of coming to terms with that loss and discovering new and valuable ways to live. If there is an inspirational message then it is in the universality of this possibility rather than in his specific achievements.

Nevertheless, there is still, perhaps, a risk that Paul’s story will be misinterpreted, either wilfully or lazily, in the light of the sadly pervasive ‘triumph over tragedy’ stereotype. It is certainly reasonable to ask whether there is a double standard at play here, in a book which seeks to avoid the cliché of superhuman achievement whilst still celebrating (or at least learning important lessons from) those achievements. Similarly, although the book is, ultimately, about how to find happiness, it is possible to wonder how this might be achieved without experiencing the extreme events of Paul’s adventurous life. Explicitly, he states that these are not the point, that they are merely teachers of a path to freedom which should be obtainable in other ways, but Paul’s own path has been so shaped by their drama that the more prosaic means available to the rest of us remain somewhat obscure.

In the end, however, the book’s spiritual message is strong enough that these questions are answered positively, with an assurance that the truths learnt through trauma and danger are accessible simply through ways of understanding the world, and that the crucial element of challenge can be found in multiple aspects of life, diverse and personal to each individual. There is an important parallel here with another apparent contradiction, between the spiritual value of a Buddhist-inspired “radical acceptance of the way things are” and the importance of fighting for social change. However, to see this as a contradiction is to misunderstand the concept, and Pritchard is careful to explain how acceptance of the present moment (and what cannot be changed in the past) in no way precludes attempts to improve the future. The Mountain Path therefore provides a shining example of how personal growth can be the starting point for wider positive change. In doing so, it necessarily performs a slightly precarious balancing act, but consistently succeeds in following its chosen course, with The Mountain itself as a powerful metaphor for the paths open to all of us.

CHRIS MANASSEH

 

 

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THE CHIPKO MOVEMENT - A People’s History
By Shekhar Pathak. Translated from Hindi by Ramchandra Guha. Pp. 370, 2021. (Permanent Black, Ranikhet, India. Rs.895)

We had organized a climbing trip into the Nanda Devi Sanctuary in Garhwal. Our team comprising of six students started the trek from Lata—Reni village on 26 May 1974. We had porters from these villages carrying our loads. We passed the famed Nanda Devi temple. We were, I should say, shamelessly ignorant about the historic events that had happened at this village, just two months earlier. Sad that we trekkers and mountaineers enjoy the hills and forests but are unaware of the need of the villagers. Here at Reni, people had spoken about and demanded their rights.

This book by Shekhar Pathak records the history of the movement and explains in simple terms, what people of these villages desire.

Forests of Garhwal and Kumaun were being mercilessly destroyed by paper mills and to manufacture railway sleepers. The government was making money and was thus reluctant to stop this. People like Chandi Prasad Bhat and Sunderlal Bahugana awakened the people, organized them to resist the contractors and prevent tree cutting labour from entering. But the government and forest officials were not ready give up this lucrative business easily.

Facing stiff resistance, the government resorted to subterfuge. They declared that all villagers of the area would be paid compensation that had been due to them when their land had been taken over in 1962, after the war with China in order to establish army camps. They were never compensated and this continued to be a sore point with villagers. When they were promised that compensation, they were happy. Almost the entire male population of the area left for Gopeshwar on 26 March 1974, the local headquarters far away in central Garhwal to collect the promised money.

At 10:00 a.m., labourers from nearby Himachal Pradesh state were taken in a bus to Reni village, the entrance of the Nanda Devi Sanctuary. The curtains in the bus were drawn so that no one could see that labourers were being taken there. They climbed up to the forest by an alternative trail from the banks of Rishi Ganga.

But a girl from Reni saw these labourers climbing up towards the forest. With all men from the village absent, she ran to the house of Gaura Devi, the head of a small women’s organization in the village. All women stopped whatever house chores they were doing and joined Gaura Devi as she gathered them from door to door. 21 women and seven little girls started towards the Sitel forest. Soon they reached the place where labourers were cooking meals and forest officials were listing the trees to be cut. The implements for cutting and felling lay all around. The Himachali labourers were astonished to see this group. “We get wood and food from these forests. Don’t cut it, if you do so the barren hills will fall on our village and there will be floods. Do not destroy our home”. When contractors refused to listen, the ladies embraced the trees and challenged them; “you will have to cut us first before cutting any tree”.

Some of the labourers were drunk and one carried a gun to hunt deer. This man now stumbling towards the women.

The history of the struggle to save the forests of Garhwal Himalaya is long. This book attempts to recount it. It is the result of monumental research by Shekhar Pathak who knows the area well. He has undertaken the trek from Askot to Arakot (west to extreme east of Garhwal) several times to understand the views of the villagers. He sees the forests as casualty to the greed of men, especially the contractors in connivance with forest officials and government.

He explains the manner in which forest rights of simple villagers were violated and how men such Chandi Prasad Bhat and Sunderlal Bahuguna rose to fight back. He introduces readers to the apathy of the government ministers and forest officials. He explains how the government was too clever to be stopped by unorganized and homegrown protests. It was only in 1974 that Gaura Devi faced the gun and gave name to the entire movement—Chipko (which literally means to stick). A unique aspect of the movement was that it was led by women of villages as men had to earn a living. The women kept an eye on the forest and protected it. The second important feature was that it was completely non-violent. In the face of force by government, the villagers blocked their routes, reasoned and pleaded with them not to cut down forests. The labourers from a nearby state—hill persons themselves—most often backed off, seeing the determined resistance by women.

The latter part of the book covers various events that carried the Chipko movement further, such as the stopping of forest auctions at Nainital, Uttarkashi, Adwani, Bhuyander etc. In each case, villagers and local students intervened in the proceedings and auctions could not take place. The movement sustained through changes of state government, various Chief Ministers and even the state of Emergency in India. Recognition came in the form of various awards given to the leaders and a BBC documentary that popularized the movement. The Chipko Movement forced abolition of the contractor system, making way for a State Forest Corporation. Villagers allowed reasonable cutting of forests. They exercised their democratic rights through elections, petitions to authorities and even through court cases.

Shekhar Pathak has written a most readable book of substance for those interested in forests and their preservation and it is smoothly translated by Ramchandra Guha.

Pathak is editor of the well-known Hindi magazine Pahar which published another book on Nain Singh Rawat, the Pandit explorer, who received the Patron’s Medal of the Royal Geographic Society in 1875, the first Indian to be so honoured. Shekhar Pathak is the custodian of vast knowledge about the Himalaya, may his tribe increase!

I returned to the area in 2001, to climb in the Nanda Devi Sanctuary. I had heard of the Chipko but was unaware of its history. This book was published only two decades later! Luckily, I had met Shekhar Pathak at Nainital where he talked passionately on the subject.

Our porters, almost all from Lata and Reni villages, were young and educated. When we paid them wages, all of them could sign in English, unlike earlier days when we had to take thumb impressions. They said that accompanied us not to earn wages but to see the Sanctuary about which they had heard so much. Some were graduates, but all of them were unemployed.

At top of the ridge above the village, the boundary of Nanda Devi National Park starts—a declared prohibited areas for visitors and villagers alike. No wood cutting, grazing, gathering of grass or forest products was allowed. The villagers were promised alternate grazing meadows when rights for venturing in the Sanctuary limits were taken away. As usual nothing was done, and the villagers had nowhere to take their herds for grazing.

As we reached Lata Kharak, about 5000 ft above the village, we saw an abandoned shelter made of stone with slogans— ‘Chhino Jhapto’ (grab forcefully), an off-shoot of the Chipko. To make government take notice of their plight a group of villagers, led by women had camped inside the boundary of the National Park. They were violating the Sanctuary laws and limits willfully. The magistrate sent a platoon of armed police to evacuate them. The police persons, who were without hill training, found it difficult to climb up the steep slopes and the striking villagers helped them up and carried their weapons! Police stayed with villagers at their shelters, sharing their food. They returned the next day and reported to the authorities who then negotiated with villagers and allowed selected access to the meadows.

Chipko movement, with its non-violent means and led by women was alive again after almost three decades!

HARISH KAPADIA

 

 

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CONTESTED LANDS: INDIA, CHINA AND THE BOUNDARY DISPUTE
By Maroof Raza. Pp. 208, 9 maps, 2021. (Westland Non-Fiction, New Delhi, Rs. 699, ISBN 9789390679782).

The founding of the People’s Republic of China was formally proclaimed more than seven decades ago in October 1949, just a couple of years after India gained independence. It is surprising then, that despite the passage of several decades, the popular historical
narrative focuses narrowly in the intervening decade of the 1950s, and abruptly ends in the aftermath of the 1962 Sino-India War. In his book Contest Lands: India, China and the Boundary Dispute, strategic affairs expert Maroof Raza seeks to widen this lens—in a sweeping analysis covering the period between 1842 (Chushul Treaty) right up to the Galwan clashes of 2020, in a crisply worded narrative spread over just nine chapters.

Raza begins his book by laying out the historical context of the dispute between New Delhi and Beijing over Aksai Chin in the North, and the Arunachal frontier in the East; through a distillation of Britain’s strategic considerations and its desire to build a ‘buffer’ region against potential Russian advancement, in the context of China’s weak hold over remote regions in the late 1800s / early 1900s. Raza then pivots over to the widely-discussed events leading up to 1962, describing how Indian policymakers’ romantic notions of Sino-Indian friendship and a commitment to a non-aligned policy has been in sharp contrast to a real-politik minded policy of a resurgent China under Mao. Raza spends some time detailing India’s strategic mistakes and sharply critiquing policy mishaps and leadership failings. While the usual suspects, in particular Defence Minister VK Krishna Menon and Chief-of-General Staff BM Kaul, are severely criticized, Raza also spends time questioning why the Indian Air Force was never offensively used during the 1962 conflict. He forcefully argues that the Intelligence Bureau’s fear of a retaliating PLA Airforce bombing Indian cities in the East was overstated, given China’s then limited air power capabilities in Tibet.

To readers looking for new insights on this epochal period of Indian history abundantly described in literature, Raza provides nuggets of often obscured nuance. For instance, he discusses China’s path to becoming a nuclear power, the importance of the uranium-rich Xinjiang province (and therefore, the criticality of the Chinese arterial road passing through Aksai Chin), the secretive Lop Nor testing site (over which China feared Indian Air Force surveillance) and Beijing’s cooperation with Moscow in its nuclear programme. With this background, the question of ‘what-if’ India had aligned with the US during this juncture (which had strong interest in preventing nuclear proliferation) becomes particularly stark.

In the latter sections of the book, Raza extends his analysis beyond the aftermath of 1962. He covers the Nathu-La and Cho-La clashes of 1967, the 1987 Sumdorung Chu incursions, the 2017 Doklam standoff and finally, the 2020 Galwan clashes. While doing so, he emphasizes ‘lessons learnt’, particularly by the armed forces who responded to China’s post-1962 strategic intrusions broadly ably; but also rues the lack of ‘a national master plan with clear goals’, pointing to a lack of political will. Raza argues that going ahead a ‘limited (conflict), like the Indo-Pak Kargil conflict of 1999’ cannot be discounted. And so, he carries out a SWOT (Strengths Weaknesses Opportunities Threats) analysis of the Indian forces—listing out the lack of all year supply lines to Ladakh and lack of satellite capacity and inputs as major challenges that Indian authorities need to address.

Overall, Raza brings to the fore his real-world experience as a former infantry officer and his domain knowledge as a strategic-affairs expert, to weave a logical, insightful and topical narrative in a book that can be read in one sitting. This is remarkable, given its wide scope and the multiple intertwining strands of history which can quickly become intractable. While some may critique the eschewing of stiffcollar academic scrutiny, the brevity and scope of the book makes it an accessible read for the ‘reasonably informed reader’. This is the audience Raza sets out to target—and in this, he succeeds admirably.

TEJAS MEHTA

 

 

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IMAGINARY PEAKS: The Riesenstein Hoax and Other Mountain Dreams
By Katies Ives. Pp. 304, 2021. (The Mountaineers, Seattle, US$26.95)

Imaginary Peaks is a wide-ranging exploration of the ways mountains inspire us to dream. Published in October 2021, it is the first book of Katie Ives, the celebrated and recently outgoing Editorin-Chief of Alpinist.

A graduate of Harvard and the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Ives is one of the most well-read living scholars of mountaineering history and mountain culture. Imaginary Peaks reflects this, the book’s sweep of the literature is both broad and deep. In her role at Alpinist, she was known for the quality of her editorial standards and the ways she worked with the magazine’s contributors to help them with the crafting of their writing. These standards are maintained in her own prose throughout this book—the words flow beautifully and are meticulously researched; rich descriptions of place and experience.

Ives uses the Riesenstein Hoax to springboard into the diverse ways mountains have inspired the human imagination. Concocted by American Harvey Manning and friends in the 1960s, the US climbing press of the time reported their stories of untouched rock spires: the “remote Reisenstein Peaks of British Colombia” as new discoveries, leading to excitement and intrigue in the North American climbing community, until they realised it all was a fabrication.

While much of the Imaginary Peaks is centred on Manning, his contemporaries, what led them to concoct such a story and set it in the American North-West, Ives explores how legends, folklore, fiction and religion from around the world have shaped the way we imagine mountains. Xanadu, the goddess Nanda Devi, Tír na nÓg, The Lord of the Rings and the Aboriginal Dreamtime are just a few of the places and stories Ives takes us on this journey.

Ives so explores the mountain cultures and history of Indigenous peoples as well as Western mountain culture and history, recognizing how the former both pre-dates and has been frequently overlooked by the latter. She writes sensitively, thinking of the feelings within the experiences of those she writes. Ives makes it clear that mountaingoing and mountain culture are holistic things, with many individual views, perceptions and stories, all of which should be considered and valued as part of the whole.

Imaginary Peaks is a book that discusses many threads, the subjects Ives explores are expansive. I found the best state of mind to be in when reading was just to immerse myself and follow Ives, thinking, not worrying about where the flow would next be heading. In doing so I saw more connections between things, as seemingly disparate entities are expertly linked by Ives’ lucid prose. To do this so effectively requires a wide and deep knowledge of the subjects, a great deal of empathy and a minimal amount of ego.

Throughout the book, there is a sense that Ives explores these imagined places, inspired by an elaborate mountain hoax because she, like Harvey Manning, is seeking to ‘convey messages about the direction in which mountaineering is heading.’ That mountain culture and the climbing life is richer for its sense of mystery is something that pervades Imaginary Peaks. It certainly seems to be one of the main sources of Ives’ own fascination with mountains—in early sections she writes of her childhood reading of Narnia, Tolkein’s created worlds, and how doing so led her to imagine her dream places, ‘...containing snow-capped peaks’.

For a long time, mountain exploration has been underpinned by a wonder akin to that of children, a significant part of which was felt due to things that were larger than us, out with our capabilities to control. Now, with the highest peaks climbed, a map of anywhere in the world is available to us in a few swipes of our fingers, and a Himalayan rescue can be arranged via WhatsApp, while we don’t have things fully under our control, we are closer than ever. And with such feelings of control can come a loss of the wonder. This book is a celebration of that wonder, showing it to us again and again.

While reading Imaginary Peaks, I found myself questioning whether Ives was at all worried that, in writing a book that forensically explores the mystery of mountains, she would take at least some of it away for the reader. This book does not do that, quite the opposite. In showing us that in the mountains there are still many things larger than us, it encourages us to dream. On a personal level it led me to think about and imagine all kinds of things, helping to initiate a stream of creativity that I am still bouncing off.

HEATHER DAWE

 

 

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Lost in the Valley of Death: A Story of Obsession and Danger in the Himalayas
By Harley Rustad. Pp ....2022, (Harper Collins, Paperback Rs. 234.00)

Lost in the Valley of Death is an evocative title, and certainly to the point. It concerns the disappearance of Instagram influencer and blogger Justin Alexander Shetler in 2016, in the Parvati Valley of the Indian Himalaya.

A varied character, good-looking and charismatic, in his early adult years, Shetler worked as a tech entrepreneur, travelling business class, wearing designer suits and making lots of money along the way. Within a few years he had spurned that lifestyle, using the money he had made to ‘retire’ and to explore himself spiritually. For Justin this meant global travel and living lightly, using the expert survival skills he had been taught at a specialist school in the US through his adolescence.

He toured the world seeking what he perceived to be authenticity, along with ever more extreme spiritual experiences.

The book has been extensively researched by its Canadian author, Harley Rustad, who immersed himself in Justin’s life, travelling to the Parvati Valley and other places Justin explored on his journey seeking enlightenment, along with interviewing acquaintances and long-time friends Justin made along his way and back home in the US.

Rustad explores the complexities of Justin’s character, how he would form intense relationships but would also abruptly leave them, seemingly afraid of commitment and dedicated to his life of exploration and forever moving.

There is a paradox in Justin’s moving away from the highly commercial world of entrepreneurial tech, yet documenting his new life through Instagram, arguably the most commercial of the world’s large social media platforms. He could have just dropped out, gone completely off-grid, but instead he needed and used the regular dopamine hit from social media that so many of us are addicted to. While Rustad is never overtly critical of this, with the journalistic style of the book, in reporting on what he finds to be the facts, exploring their back-story and what led them to happen, Rustad leads us to question Justin’s and in turn our own behaviours with social media.

Rustad also discusses ‘India Syndrome’ the recognised medical condition that afflicts Westerners seeking spirituality and enlightenment through the culture and landscape of this rich and diverse country. Sufferers of the syndrome lose themselves through this immersion, leading to a complete disconnection with their families and other loved ones back home. For me this was one of the most interesting sections of the book. The hippy trail has existed since at least the 1960s. The existence of India Syndrome reflects the commercial and consumerist nature of Western ways of living and how some people question it to a point of breakdown. There is surely a lesson here for many of us.

This is a very interesting and informative book that casts light on the ‘modern adventurer’ and the ways in which social media has affected the ways Westerners take themselves away from the commercial and artificial modern life, to find themselves in the mountains and valleys of the Himalaya. It does this almost exclusively from the perspective of the Westerner. Rustad rarely questions the viewpoints of local people on such Westerners (of which Justin was in many ways a stereotype), and the ways they interact together. While I think this is a weakness, it does not detract from my interest in the book, and this is arguably not its main subject matter.

One of the main threads of Lost in the Valley of Death is how Justin became addicted to high risk ‘spiritual adventures’, and how this likely caused his early death. On retreat in a cave high in the Parvati Valley he disappears, in all likelihood dying through misadventure of some kind. The complete nature of his demise will probably never be explained. Maybe he did finally break the cord and drop off the grid, is still out there somewhere, hopefully happier and freer. That we will never find out for sure is one of the allures of Justin’s story.

HEATHER DAWE

 

 

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UP THE MOUNTAINS OF INDIA
By Mala Kumar. Pp 230. (Hachette India, 2022 Price Rs 499)

I first chatted with Malaji when she called me for some information and permission to use material from The Himalayan Journal that she had referenced. From the word go, I knew that she would come up with a joyous happy book on India’s mountains aimed for young people. She sounded warm and wonderful and her book reflects it. The book aims to take you on ‘a fun, fact-filled trek across the country’s major ranges’—the Himalayas, the Trans-Himalaya, the Aravallis, the Vindhyas, the Satpuras,
the North-east mountains, the Eastern Ghats, and the Western Ghats.

It does exactly that and while on the journey, you learn about living forms, forests and the people of these mountains. It is a book that you can’t put down until done.

Is there a subject that Malaji does not cover? Geology, history, geography, geo politics, culture, ecology, conservation, science, mythology, folklore, mountain sport, astronomy, you will find all these facets, rolled up in the folds and crumples of what we know as mountains and hills. What is more, they are described in a way that would appeal to a young person and those teaching young people. How I wish text books were written in this style rather than compartmentalized into boring subjects that run parallel to each other!

Check the word pictures she creates:

Oh, and are peak and summit the same? Imagine you are carrying five ice cream cones in your hands, for you friends, each with a cherry on top. Each of the cherries is a peak but the summit? Thats the cherry on the cone highest in your hand. Got it?

After discussing the formation of the Himalaya, she goes on to describe the flora and fauna with vivid box titles such as Jumping Spiders and Edible Hills and In La La Land. It is amazing how Malaji has covered sensitive matters such as threats from development and deforestation; matters for which the world has found no real solutions except sustainable practices, in a manner that informs and plants seeds in young minds. Climate change is most connected to how we treat our mountains and therefore rour lessons must begin here.

When I first saw the book, I was a tad disappointed. I thought, how would a book with pretty basic illustrations, no gloss, no spectacular photos, be attractive to young people? But as I went on to read it, I got drawn in. Yes, it is a moderately produced and therefore priced book. It has these limitations but guess what? It rises above them to make a fun ready reference book not only for youngsters but their parents as well and many of us mountain lovers.

Has Malaji packed in more than she should have? After reading the book, I do think it’s a great beginning for folks to get a sense of the mountains, the people, the possible activities and how we can save them. Just a beginning.

After little nuggets on the Shivaliks etc, she ‘hikes’ to the arid Trans Himalayan region, telling us about the Karakoram, the destruction that Shahtoosh caused and history of the region woven into the pashmina shawl, all of this in 10 to 12 succinct pages.

But then spreading oneself thin to cover many aspects (given that this is in the category of ‘children’s books’), one faces the risk of losing nuance and debate. For example, there is a note on the ice stupas in Ladakh for water conservation. This experiment has arguably met with success but is still in stages of experiment and is already facing protest by farmers downstream who feel that their water is blocked/diverted by the stupas.

Not to nit pick but if only solutions to the worlds environmental problems were so straightforward as in Malaji’s world, maybe we would all be in a better place. Therefore, I think these problems should have been stated more seriously than they are. Maybe Mala Kumar can write another book because, in order to come down to such simplicity, and make everything so interesting, requires a lot of intense research. Malaji has made that tremendous effort so hats off.

The author then journeys off into the other ranges of India, doing each one equal justice, talking about biodiversity and indigenous people and each and every special feature in each and every range. She then ties it all up with a note on mountain and hill railways, tourism, tips on how to enter the world of hiking and climbing, a list of things to do to save the mountains. Ms Mala Kumar thought of everything.

Buy this for yourself and as a gift for a young person who might find passion enough to shape their life! And save our planet.

NANDINI PURANDARE

 

 

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THE CLIMBING BIBLE, Practical Exercises
By Martin Mobråten and Stian Christophersen. Pp. 85, 200 photos, 2021. (Vertebrate Publishing, UK, £ 20.00). ISBN: 978-1-83981-104-3.

The Climbing Bible is a collection of exercises gathered from two decades of climbing experience. The exercises focus mostly on perfecting technique and form while building climbing specific strength and power.

The book is divided into three major sections—technique, strength and power, and climbing for kids and youth. It’s full of practical tips and tricks taken directly from the authors’ own experience with climbing as well as coaching and training other athletes. Every section includes specific instructions and full-scale photos to make sure the climber has every instruction they need.

The foreword is written by Cecilie Skog where she describes her journey back to climbing and balancing it with the responsibilities of motherhood. Mobråten and Christophersen wanted to publish a book with as much intersection between theory and practice as possible, with takeaways the climber can implement in every training session. The book aims to equip them with all the required skills and knowledge to build a solid climbing base on.

The book starts with The Ten Commandments of Climbing, which defines the authors’ climbing philosophy in a nutshell. The commandments focus on the importance of consistent practice in a climber’s life, the variety needed in terms of different styles and angles with both indoor and outdoor climbing, and the importance of building a proper understanding of techniques before trying out advanced moves. There are a few commandments on the importance of mental health and preparedness, along with learning how to focus on training foot techniques, building finger strength and mobility, being part of a community, and finding joy and playfulness in climbing.

Despite the mentions of mental strength and agility, the authors are quick to add that the main purpose of the book is to prepare a climber for the physical aspects of training. However, the little nuggets of wisdom on learning to have fun, starting with easy routes, and knowing one’s limits all through the book serve as a good reminder of how mental and physical training go hand-in-hand.

The section on Warming Up deals with the all-important concept of warming up your muscles before training. It includes the proper uses of including it as part of training, and its role in injury prevention. A well-structured warm up should consist of two sections—the general part which lasts for 10-20 minutes depending on the climber’s age and training level, and a climbing-based specific section that prepares the muscles for techniques to be included in the training schedule.

The first section on Technique is laser-focused on building a foundation before all else. There are notes on how to approach technique in a practical way, the desired intensity, and basic skills to be practiced, such as footwork, choosing shoes, how to engage the core and move on the rock, and maintaining a proper hand-eye coordination. Important techniques like traversing, grips, balancing, tension and direction of force are also covered.

Section 2: Strength and Power gets into the nitty-gritty of exercises on and off the wall. They are specific to building strength, power, correct positioning, as well as isolated strength, fingerboard training, and shoulder mobility.

The third and final section—Children and Youth—gives practical tips for introducing children to the sport and building their capacity to be efficient climbers. It relies heavily on making training as fun as possible with lots of games, technique exercises, and strength training tips presented in an enjoyable training format.

The Climbing Bible contains over 200 coloured photographs, actionable tips, and insights from top climbers all woven together to create a resource that covers the physical aspect of training in detail.

MADHUSREE BHATTACHARYA

 

 

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TONY STREATHER: SOLDIER AND MOUNTAINEER, The Tale of A Man Who Sought Always To Go A Little Further, Beyond That Last Blue Mountain Barred With Snow.
By Robert Turner and Henry Edmundson. Pp. 65. 2021. (Upfront Publishing, England, £ 10.00). ISBN: 978-178456-780-4

Tony Streather, Soldier and Mountaineer is a biography published posthumously that covers Streather’s illustrious achievements serving in the army, his unexpected entry into the field of mountaineering, and the expeditions he barely survived.

The book begins with a speech by Sir Chris Bonnington at Streather’s thanksgiving memorial. He speaks fondly of how they had common interests despite never having climbed together. They were born in North London, he says, went to the same school, and had similar childhoods in Hampstead Heath. This opening sets the tone for the rest of the book, which focuses heavily on his story as told by those close to him. The pages are filled with photos from the Streather family’s collection, with anecdotes and insights into his life, giving a close look into the life and pursuits of “a man who sought always to go a little further, beyond the last blue mountain barred with snow”.

The book describes Streather’s military character in detail including his assignments in the North-West frontier of India, Germany, Cyprus, North Borneo, and Northern Ireland. A chance interaction set him down the mountaineering path when he was invited to join a Norwegian expedition to Tirich Mir as a transport officer, a role he fills with ease due to his natural flair for speaking multiple languages and his conversational nature.

The book also touches upon the political situation that surrounded India’s partition of 1947, and Streather’s subsequent assignment in post-partition Pakistan which led to his joining the Tirich Mir expedition. That was just the beginning of a life that was a combination of soldiering and mountaineering and a lot of expeditions followed. He survived terrible tragedies on Haramosh and K2, memories that stayed with him. He also summitted Kangchenjunga in 1955.

His military career continued with him founding the Army Mountaineering Association and organizing its subsequent expeditions. The book covers both of these aspects of his life, along with insights into his later life and retirement with family and friends. The first authorized biography written on Streather’s life is only 140 odd pages long, but covers an illustrious life straight from his youthful days growing up in England, to an army officer who makes a mark in the golden age of Himalayan climbing.

MADHUSHREE DUTTA

 

 

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THE FRACTURED HIMALAYA India, Tibet, China (1949-1962)
By Nirupama Rao. Pp. 609, (Penguin Random House, Delhi, 2021). (ISBN 978-0-67-008829-4).

The finest combination of boundary and barriers that exist in the world; never was such a Godgiven boundary set to such a vast, impressive and stupendous frontier.

- Thomas Holdich on the Himalaya

It stands as a curiosity that the Himalayan region, despite such an impressive ‘God-given’ boundary, remains the theatre for one of the most entrenched geopolitical disputes of the 21st century. It serves as an even bigger curiosity then, that despite being at the front and centre of the Indo-Sino dispute, the Himalayan (and trans-Himalayan) region often get relegated to the background in the typical personality driven narratives of history. In her book The Fractured Himalaya India, Tibet, China (1949-1962), retired Indian Foreign Service officer Nirupama Rao seeks to remedy this, by putting Tibet at the front and centre of the Indo-Sino relationship, a dispute she labels as the ‘three-body’ problem. Rao gives a sweeping overview of the testy-relationship between the two regional behemoths, from the establishment of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, the subsequent honeymoon period between New Delhi and Beijing in the mid-1950s and the ensuing deterioration in relations, ultimately leading to the 1962 War—all while maintaining an overarching focus on Lhasa.

At the centre of the dispute, the author forcefully argues, is the ‘Simla Accord of 1914’ concerning the status of Tibet—which was signed by Tibetan and British representatives, but only initialed (and later, repudiated) by the Chinese. The accord primarily sought to divide Tibet into ‘outer’ autonomous and ‘inner’ Chinese administered regions, while acknowledging Chinese ‘suzerainty’ over Tibet as a whole. The overarching aim for Britain was to create a buffer state and safeguard its control over India. Consequently, the accord also defined a boundary between British India and Tibet—which later became known as the McMahon line. The author argues that the Chinese rejection of the Simla convention stemmed from its opposition to the demarcation of ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ Tibet, and not the McMahon line per se. As such, it would seem then that India and China would have little to disagree about while settling the boundary question.

Nevertheless, as Rao recounts, India squandered its strong initial position through a series of myopic political blunders even as China strengthened its own position, through shrewd diplomacy and foresighted real-politik. Crucial amongst these was Indian policy makers’ tenuous attempt to establish facts on ground by publishing maps and pushing thinly supported ‘forward posts’ on one hand, while hesitating to candidly discuss the frontier issue with China on the other. Besides this, authorities’ romantic notions of Sino-Indian friendship pushed them into giving up all privileges (inherited as a successor state to British India) in Tibet—without extracting anything in return—going out of its way to support the People’s Republic candidacy for a seat on the UN Security Council and at one point, providing conduit for Chinese troops into Tibet! Of course, Beijing played its own initially weaker hand “adroitly” by refusing to discuss issues it felt were not ripe for discussion and feigning ignorance on other issues, even while secretly chipping away at an arterial road in Aksai-Chin (a strategic region connecting Xinjiang province to Tibet). Beijing would cement its control over this region and later use it as leverage to settle issues along the Eastern front if New Delhi agreed to recognize Chinese control of Aksai Chin. As a final flourish, China would send down its troops in a month-long war, before unilaterally calling a ceasefire and restoring status-quo ante—a move that would cement the power dynamic firmly in their favour.

For long, the onus of these errors and their consequences has been put squarely on then Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, but in this book Ms. Rao goes against this grain of consensus. She does so in three primary ways. First, she critiques errors ‘commission and omission’ made by key-advisors from the policy establishment. For instance, the author carefully lays out KM Panniker’s (the first Indian Ambassador to Socialist China) critical role in advising Pandit Nehru against raising the boundary question while signing the 1954 Sino-Indian (Panchsheel) agreement—where New Delhi for the first time, acknowledged Tibet as ‘Tibet Region of China’.

Second, she points out that the public and political mood increasingly curtailed the Prime Minister’s degrees of freedom to resolve the dispute, especially after China’s Aksai-Chin road became public information in the late 1950s. Finally, she warns readers against succumbing to history’s hindsight bias and defaulting to simplistic caricatures about what could-have-been.

Few could be better qualified than Rao to lift some of history’s burden from Pandit Nehru’s shoulders. As a former Foreign Secretary and former Indian Ambassador to China with deep subject matter expertise, she is able to look beyond dazzling larger than life personalities, to bring to life the more humdrum (but, arguably more consequential) correspondences from political, bureaucratic and military mandarins. This mix of scholarly knowledge and firsthand experience of real-world diplomacy has enabled the author to provide a sweeping overview of this critical period of Indian history.

In her final chapter, she urges an “unbiased reading” of this critical period of history to “charter new paths and address fault-lines”. This book then, is the author’s admirable attempt to achieve this very objective. Readers will hope that at some point, the author is able to extend her analysis from 1962 to the present. Afterall, a lot has changed in six decades since the war, even if the Himalayan region at the centre of it all, remains as vast, stupendous and impressive as ever.

TEJAS MEHTA

 

 

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BORN TO CLIMB:
From Rock Climbing Pioneers to Olympic Athletes
By Zofia Reych. Pp 283 (Vertebrate Publishing, 2022 Hardcover 14.62 GBP)

Born to Climb is an unusual book. Increasingly, in recent times, I have come across books that cover a certain subject, but are personalized by an author who weaves their own story into it, thus placing themselves in the context of the life and times that they are writing about. Zofia Reych does exactly that. They have traced their life as a climber, with changing emotions, goals and motivations as they grow older. The backdrop to this thread running through the book is the changing world of climbing. Starting from impoverished post war Poland, where climbers needed to break out of bleak lives to set their souls free, to pre, in-between-wars and post-war Britain, where climbing and exploration began by the elite, soon to be replaced by the blue collared mavericks, to the USA—where the rebels; the Jack Kerouac beat generation climbed to break rules. And much more.

Zofia, an anthropologist and climber, says in the preface:

Through mixing stories of the past and present greats with my very own typical climbing story, I hope to paint and accurate and full image of a sport which in recent years has captivated the world like no other. I hope you will enjoy it and, perhaps, find even more appreciation for a passing hobby that made you pick up this book, or maybe the great passion that has shaped—or will shape—your entire life.

They stick to their promise.

Pivotal moments that have defined trends and shaped climbing and the players such as Emilio Comici, Wolfgang Güllich and Lynn Hill—Zofia has them covered.

From the start of development of climbing, rock climbing, bouldering
as a passion to it becoming a recognized competitive sport, peaking as an event at Tokyo’s 2021 Olympics, this book breezes through in a style that reflects intense research but also a beating pulse and passion. Zofia has a flair to find stories that are captivating and reflect their arguments succinctly. For example:

At the vanguard of the post war cultural rebellion was a small literary movement soon to be known as the Beat Generation, and described as pushing back ‘Mom Dad, Politics, Marriage, the Savings Bank, Organized Religion, Literary Elegance, Law, The Ivy League Suit and Higher Education, to say nothing of the Automatic Dishwasher, the cellophane wrapped Soda Cracker, the Split-Level House and the clean or peace provoking H-Bomb’.

Then comes the chapter Hard Grit that makes the era of Joe Brown and Don Whillans, who changed the face of climbing in England and indeed the world. Now begins the purist debates—trad climbing vs aided climbing vs free soloing, all adequately covered.

Unburdened by the Alpine Club’s disdain for pitons, on his first attempt on the Corner Brown decided to place pegs every six metres or so. Halfway up the route he put his mason’s hammer between his teeth to free up his hands. Forgetfully opening his mouth, he sent the tool plummeting straight down the vertical route. The hammer struck the belayer straight on the head.

With a certain sense of humour, they describe their experiences, rooming with legendary climbers like Johnny Dawes and their budding romance with Andy as they climbed together in the high Tatras.

Writing of the climbing boom in the eighties when in Britain…

Then they add, rather tartly:

Nearly all of the climbers of the time had families to fall back on, should their lifestyle land them in genuine trouble, and sleeping and hitching are both safer for white cisgender men than anybody else.

Zofia cleverly navigates gender discrimination in the world of climbing, particularly competition climbing. Some of what they write is almost unbelievable! Finding competition sport to be a ‘circus’, a ‘horrible experience’, that was full of pressure and took an ‘emotional toll’, stars such as Catherine Destivelle and her friend Lyn Hill, who the media and brand managers exploited until they gave up competition climbing totally.

Zofia relates this incident:

Registering at Bardonecchia, Hill overheard that the main prize in the male division was a brand-new car. Enquiring if there was a car for women, after a moment of debate, she was informed that female athletes would be given the same prize if they climbed without their tops on.

Later on, Zofia admits with searing honesty that there has been a change in approach:

As I look back at my own research it is almost incomprehensible to realise how much climbing culture, the community and its media have changed over the last few years alone. Even more baffling is that my own line of inquiry was the one that reinforced the division between genders, instead of moving away from it altogether—another testimony to how much the climbing community and myself with it have moved on.

Zofia goes on to describe Tokyo Olympics and the stories around the climbers such as Janja Garnbret, Adam Ondra and Shauna Coxsey who participated. They wind up their story with the setting up of the first Women’s Bouldering Festival, at Fontainebleau, a white-maledominated climbing area. Of this they write:

Seeing one of the oldest, most iconic Fontainebleau locations busy with an international crowd of women suddenly made my eyes well up. It felt very special to flip the dynamics of the crag, to witness and experience the difference.

Another area of importance is the environment and how climbers need to mend their climbing ways and finally Zofia in their Epilogue makes a passionate cry for some values that need to stand the test of time.

While I wouldn’t dare to call anybody to activism, I do believe we should all honour mentorship, perhaps, climbing’s oldest tradition. The passage of skills and ethics from one climber to another is the very basis of our community but as climbing spills beyond itself and into the mainstream, new participants are increasingly introduced to it through media and indoor gyms.

Yes, this book is a fascinating study with quirky chapter titles such as Monty Python’s Flying Circus, The Golden Age and Other Myths, The Poetry of Mountaineering and To Bolt or Not to Be. Bless Zofia for a detailed glossary of climbing terminology and grade comparison tables—very useful indeed. And cheers to this writer for bluntly talking about capitalism/ materialism and profiteering that drives the sport as well as the fine lines that one treads to balance the athletic and the aesthetic. There are no judgements or solutions offered but it is said like it is.

If I had to mention one lacuna in their research, it would be the omission of climbing in the Himalaya. Climbing in this region, with its many milestones has influenced the culture of climbing the world over.

NANDINI PURANDARE

 

 

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INDIAN HIMALAYA. An Illustrated Guide for Mountaineers
Edited by Masato Oki. Pp. 425, illustrated, maps. 2022 (Tokai Section of the Japanese Alpine Club, Fubai-sha Co. Ltd, Nagoya. JP Yen 5000)

Harish Kapadia in his Foreword to this book says, “The Japanese mountaineering community is large. They have climbed high mountains, explored several ranges and brought back much knowledge. This is very true of their exploits in the Himalaya.” And to celebrate Japanese presence in the history of Himalayan mountaineering, Oki Masato has brought out a beautiful meticulous guide book to many peaks in the Indian Himalaya. The book features “200 years of historical records from international teams including 100 years of records from Japanese teams, written during their explorations and climbing.” The humungous effort’s result is a beautiful production named Indian Himalaya—An Illustrated Guide for Mountaineers.

The book chapters are divided by regions such as Eastern Karakorams, Kashmir, Zanskar, Spiti etc. After a general description of the region and its history, the peaks in the region are listed with location, notable features and a brief climbing history. Every editor, climber, fact afficionado would value possessing this book. It is a proud fact that Harish Kapadia has contributed his sketch maps apart from expertise, information on Arunachal Pradesh as well as an article on the Riddle of the Tsangpo. The sketch maps (some made by The Himalayan Club) as well as topo maps from the Survey of India are wonderfully used.

NANDINI PURANDARE

 

 

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Short Reviews

NANDINI PURANDARE

 

THE UNTOLD STORY OF EVEREST 1985: Indian Army’s First Everest Expedition.
By Colonel Ashok Pratap Tanwar, self-published, New Delhi, 2021.

36 years ago, the first expedition by Indian Army personnel to Everest was undertaken in the post monsoon period of 1985. It had three different leaders and yet not only did success evade the team but four members perished on the mountain. The expedition’s records, reports and films were confiscated and remained locked away for many decades, to be finally brought out by Colonel D. N. Tankha, then Director of the Army Adventure Cell. Members launched no less than six attempts to attain the peak with no luck. 25 years on, a “seminar cum memorial service” was arranged to pay homage to the departed members. The hidden log books surfaced during this event. This book is based on these records and the account of Col. Prem Chand, one of the leaders of the ill-fated expedition. This book has some fabulous photographs. Unfortunately, it reads more like an expedition report, If only the narrative had been better woven, the book would have been a winner.

 

AN ATLAS OF ARMY ADVENTURE
By Colonel Ashok Pratap Tanwar. Many photos and maps. Pp 160. Army Adventure Wing / DCOAS (IS & C) Sectt.

The book is prefaced by the mandatory top heavy army bureaucracy where all those who matter must have their photo and words in form of an Introduction, a Foreword, a Preface, and a Prologue, as well as a long list of Credits and Acknowledgements. Once you get past the early pages, this is closest to an atlas of adventure that one can hope for. The Indian army has always had a great tradition of sport in the mountains and this lavish book is an ode to that. A must have for all afficionados.

 

THE RESTLESS RIVER
Editors: Ganesh Pangare, Bushra Nishat, Xiawei Lao, Halla Maher Qaddumi. Photographs: Ganesh Pangare. Pp 428. International Bank for Reconstruction and Development/ The World Bank.

As the Preface notes, this is a perspective on the Yarlung-Tsangpo-Siang-Brahmaputra-Jamuna River basin; the first one to document all these as one river system with contributions from all four countries that it flows through. It is hoped that a holistic approach such as this will help with dialogue and policy discussions leading to cooperative river basin management. The report has a collection of 90 authors, powerful voices with different perspectives that make the whole picture. The river is deeply embedded in the cultures, lives, practices of those who live within its system and this book reflects that. There are borders that exist on paper and there is a natural system that does not heed man made borders, it transcends them in fact. This evocative book and its lavish imagery prove this fact.

HARISH KAPADIA

 

EVEREST by ‘Those Who Were There’
By Babra Grigor, Nigel Buckly and Pete Gillman. Pp. 70, 2021. (The Alpine Club, London).

A well-produced booklet / catalogue accompanying an exhibition on Everest, held at the Alpine Club in 2021 to commemorate the first expedition to Everest in 1921. The book contains several historic photographs sourced from the vast collection of Club archives. The last double spread colour photos are by a Patron of The Himalayan Club, late Kunj Trivedi (See Obituary elsewhere in the Volume). It was taken from Pang La on way from Tingri to Rongbuk. The 1922 Everest expedition had clicked a similar picture in black and white. A collectors book.

 

The Mountaineering Handbook—Essential Knowledge, Skills and Technique. By Sanjai Banerji. Pp 278. (Blue Rose Publishers, New Delhi Rs. 400.00)

‘The Mountaineering Handbook’ is essentially a well written encyclopedia for mountaineers. The author’s approach is practical rather than theoretical.

The exercises have been curated by him and demonstrated by two of his mountaineering colleagues over a series of 24 photographs representing strength-trainingand developing a strong core for flexibility, agility and stability.

The author has alsocovered critical aspects of mountaineering such as high-altitude acclimatization,acute mountain sickness, cold injuries and survival techniques in the mountains. Sanjai’s son and daughter-in-law, who work in the field of climate change have also contributed to the book.

Another area of interest to readers is information on India’s mountaineering schools and admission processes. All that a novice climber needs to know including map reading, weather, mountain hygiene, conservation, types of climbing ropes, rucksack packing, river crossing, mountain ranges of India are covered.

So much information in the book is handy for other types of travellers as well.

This economically priced ready-reckoner on mountaineering is a good book to have for anyone trying to come to grips with the different aspects of mountaineering. Gift it to a young friend to help them develop a passion for the wilderness.

EXTRACTED FROM A REVIEW BY ANURADHA PAUL

 

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