Mallory and the Statement
When George Mallory responded, “Because it is there” to the “Why climb Everest?” question, he passed on a sort of permanent approval to those who wished to risk their lives climbing. But one should really have asked Mallory and his predecessors, “How did you know it was there?” Possibly “Why climb Everest?” is best answered, “Because we found it.”
By the end of the 18th century, the world did not know where the highest mountain lay. Historically, it was prime time for the “Great Game” and the struggle to conquer Central Asia. While the British developed their stronghold on the Indian subcontinent, Czarist Russia was intent on dominating the relatively uncharted landscapes of mountainous Asia. To control these areas, one had to overcome ruthless thieves and unfriendly kingdoms as well as cross the seemingly unpassable and hostile ranges of the Pamirs, Hindu Kush, Karakorums, Garwhals, and Himalayas.
To map these areas around India, one traveled as a spy or pundit, often changing disguises as the communities warranted. These cartographers-cum-spies also needed incredible strength and climbing skills while crossing the barren terrain, and hence an explorer’s renaissance was born. These explorers would often change quickly from Muslim cleric to Buddhist pilgrim, replete with an understanding of language, culture, and local idiosyncrasies — those minute details of movement that are a delicate part of Asian culture.
Even these skills were only a prerequisite to the goal of the journey, which was to survey the regions with precision. For these explorer chameleons, it was not uncommon to hide surveying tools in everyday objects. (The most famous instance of this was a surveyor’s kit and records hidden inside a Tibetan prayer wheel. Another pundit logged thousands of miles by counting every individual step.) While noting what progress could be made in a day or week and observing difficult crossings, natural defenses, and watering holes for pack animals, they traveled in expedition style (a common term for a style of mountain climbing in which a series of camps are set). Expedition teams approached the surveying journey in the same way modern climbers think about a mountain.
These explorers became legendary heroes who bridged the gap between older explorers and modern-day climbers*. They were, in fact, the first Himalayan climbers, as surveying the mountains was often the cited raison d’etre for an expedition’s approval and funding. The heroes became fabled characters in Kipling’s “Kim,” and provided a century of literature for the Great Britain’s Royal Geographical Society.
* The mapping of Everest is a sub history in itself with Indian Surveyors of the 1950’s taking accuracy to new levels. Even with satellite methods of the 1980’s, the older figures held. Most recently, famed climber, photographer, and cartographer, Dr. Bradford Washburn made updated calculations. Nearing 90 years of age, Dr. Washburn still conducts experiments with Everest climbers using GPS systems and a prism placed on the summit. Everest climbers Burleson, Athens, Berg, and Tejas have all worked with Washburn.
It was not until 1808 that the British fully embraced the single goal of finding the world’s highest mountain. (It was nearly 100 years later that the British dispatched Colonel Younghusband to cross the Himalayas to secure Tibet as an ally.) Charting territory from British India, they did not reach the Himalayan foothills until the 1830’s. Movement was slow in Himalayan terrain and Everest was not proclaimed as the world’s highest peak until 1852. Thirty years later, Clinton Dent raised the first serious proposal for a full-on attempt to summit Mt. Everest.
Now discovered as the highest mountain, it was Mallory’s 1922 expedition that brought Everest and its mythos to the masses. After 114 years of mapping, Mallory could now state: “Because it is there.” When Hillary and Norgay were the first to summit Everest in 1953, Hillary stated, “I really believed the story had finished. I supposed it would be recorded in Alpine journals but that was all. How wrong I was. The media and public reaction was far beyond anything I naively expected.”
Back in vogue, the media attention to the disasters of 1996 has brought Everest renewed popularity. Jon Krakauer’s “Into Thin Air,” has made Everest household talk from the Oklahoma plains to the shores of New Foundland. While the tragedies of 1996 were unique, they were certainly not odd. Climbers do die on Everest most every year, but the 1996 tragedy offered a reporter at the ready, satellite phones, internet access to events, and a cast of characters that intrigued armchair climbers and the common man. It was practically a ready-made news event and unfortunately the actual climbing was often presented with journalistic simplicity.
Most recently, the “Everest” IMAX film has reached theatres around the world and has given an alpinist’s view of the mountain and a chance for us catch a glimpse into the incredible beauty that seduces climbers. We may ask ourselves why a few deaths on Everest evoke more empathy than other natural disasters and grade school killings? It is because we all relate to adventure in some form; the predetermined, articulated goal of a climber, sailor, or balloonist will naturally capture our human emotions.
As the West decides who are the Everest heroes and goats, the Sherpa of Nepal go about their business of climbing Everest in uncelebrated glory. While five summits is the record for a Westerner, Ang Rita Sherpa has summited the mountain 10 times. For most Sherpa, climbing is one of a few possible occupations. Their reputation as climbers is nothing short of historic, and their local Buddhist, animist, and cultural traditions have nurtured and impacted a fascinating relationship with Westerners and Western thought.