"Ways to the Sky"
by Andy Selters

Ways to the Sky A Historical Guide to North American Mountaineering by Andy Selters
By Karen Riggs, Editor

Andy Selters
, author, photographer and mountain guide has done it - squeezed the history of North American mountaineering into a hand-jam sized book, 334 pages to be exact.

“This is a view of mountaineering, as if one were perched on Hummingbird Ridge,” Selters said of his new book: "Ways to the Sky: A Historical Guide to North American Mountaineering."

While the scope of his subject is daunting, the book is imminently approachable through Selters’ deft use of anecdote and detail, which incredibly, is austere and rich at the same time. He narrates notable achievements in mountain exploration and peak climbing, while hefting a vigorous analysis along the way.

Not only of interest to climbers, the book has 353 historic photos and etchings from the raccoon-eyed, sun-scorched Duke of Abruzzi on Mt. St. Elias (1897) to Mark Prezelj perched like a human fly on Light Traveler, Denali (2001).

Selters traveled the continent to conduct interviews with historic figures, spent months in the various library branches of the American Alpine Club and corresponded with mountaineers across the continent. By the time his research was done, he had 25 hours of cassettes, four feet of stacked notes and hundreds of photos. Selters said his task was to address the sweeping questions of: "How did we get from A to X" and “How was the continent explored," but he also wanted to “get a sense of the why.”

He came to the conclusion that it’s about “engagement with the mountains,” which he lightens to “going up and coming back down.” At the core of engagement, according to Selters, are dual motivations: accomplishment and experience. “Accomplishment is the aspect of mountaineering you see on the Sports Page - who, what, when and where and how hard; experience is what you read about in the Outdoor Section.”

Selters said he organized his collection of notes chronologically and then stared at the timeline back and forth, until he finally saw a four-part structure emerge.

He calls the first historical period “Discovery by Summiting,” when the primary goal was making first ascents of the largest mountains. This is a period of vast exploration encompassing forays into Mexico, the American West, Canadian Rockies, the Icefield Ranges and the Alaskan Range from the 16th century until, primarily, the 1920s.

The first non-native mountain climbers in North America were soldiers and explorers, Spanish conquistadors who climbed the smoke-spewing volcano Popocatepetl, (17,930 ft.) in Mexico in 1519, part of what made a god-like impression on the Aztecs and may have contributed their surrender to Hernando Cortez.

Yet, modern mountaineering traces it’s seminal event to the ascent of Mont Blanc, the highest peak in the European Alps (15,771 ft) by Michel-Gabriel Paccard and his porter Jacques Balmat in 1786. Selters writes that during the Dark Ages, “. . . travelers typically averted their eyes from alpine views” and “ . . . as late as 1708, a prominent doctor and authority on the Alps was refining a classification of the evil dragons thought to inhabit the peaks.”

Paccard was urged by a fellow scientist to obtain barometric readings from the top. So, mountaineering began as a mix of enlightenment and romanticism, part of the greater movement of throwing off the shackles of superstition, and the movement to find nature, in the wake of the Industrial Revolution.

Mountaineering evolved from expeditions to guided club outings to individual efforts, and yet by 1912, the highest peak in North America still remained unconquered (although false claims had been made earlier by explorer Frederick Cook).

A team composed of Belmore Browne, Herschel Parker and Merle LeVoy left from Seward early in January, 1912 for their second try and by June 29, they were poised to reach the top of Mt. McKinley (Denali).

But, fate would not have it. “When they crested the summit ridge at 20,100 feet, Browne said he ‘saw a site that will haunt me to my dying day. The slope above was no longer steep!’ They only had 200 yards up a trivial grade to reach the summit, but the storm in their faces was too much and they had to retreat,” Selters writes.

The team which actually completed the first ascent was organized by Episcopal archdeacon of the Alaskan territory Hudson Stuck and his two recruits, Harry Karstens and Walter Harper, A Koyukan Athabascan. Stuck wrote “’To roam over glaciers and scramble up peaks free and untrammeled is mountaineering in the Alps. Put a 40-pound pack on man’s back with the knowledge that tomorrow he must go down for another, and you have mountaineering in Alaska.’” They worked day after day and established their highest camp at 18,000 feet. On June 7, 1913, they summited (20,320 ft) and gave praise to God, singing a Latin chorus of Te Deum.

By the early 1920s, a new form of mountaineering emerged, according to Selters. Along with the notable shift in mood from the loss of innocence through knowing the world’s vulnerability to war, the Post World War I era entered with new technology (including early pitons and crampons), and a more individual approach. With all the major peaks having been summited, mountaineers found new satisfaction by attempted ever more challenging routes, according to Selters. " ‘Let’s see if we can climb that buttress’ “ was heard and never before feats were accomplished.

Climbing along the heavily corniced "Shovel Traverse" section of the Hummingbird Ridge. Photo by Allen Steck.Some lamented the new technology and felt nostalgic for simpler days. Selters uses quotes aptly placed to articulate the new mountaineers viewpoint. German immigrant Hans Gmoser answering criticism that their Austrian style of climbing was emotionless, mechanical and motivated by showboating, penned this response: “We wanted to inhale and breathe life again . . . We were rebelling against an existence where a man is judged by the size of his living room, by the amount of chromium on his car. But, here we were ourselves again; simple and pure . . . We were ready to trust each other, help each other and give each other everything. This mountain to us is not a sports arena. To us, it is a symbol of truth and a symbol of life as it should be. This mountain teaches us that we should endure hardships and not drift along the easy way, which always leads down.”

The third evolution came in the 1960’s counterculture, when climbers began to focus on style, rather than “just getting up the route by whatever means possible."

Selters said one of the most dramatic climbs was the first winter ascent on the north face of the Grand Teton. George, Greg and Mike Lowe, along with Rick Horn climbed the rock wall with ice all over it, using only basic gear, in super cold. They had leather double boots, front point crampons and had re-forged their own tools. “They did mixed climbing in a way, bivouacking on the face, that people in North America couldn’t imagine. They were so far ahead of their time,” Selters said. “There was a real sense of mountaineering progress."

Another extraordinary saga from this era was the expedition to Canada's highest peak, Mt. Logan via the Hummingbird Ridge, so named for tiny bird which buzzed the team at 9,600 feet - “100 miles from the nearest flower.”

Led by Dick Long and Allen Steck, six partners including Paul Bacon, Frank Coale, John Evans, Dick Long and Jim Wilson, assembled in 1965 for the long ascent up the south ridge. They started by hauling 700 pounds of gear up fixed line to the narrow crest, then continued up lose schist and wild cornices, unstable on either side. They considered going back, but instead pressed on. Twice they had to wait out storms, once on a flattened cornice for seven days. After moving off the cornice, they looked back in wonderment to see it shear off and fall away. They may not have pioneered the “forward retreat” (going ahead as a better way to get off the mountain safely), but they made good use of it. They climbed all of Mt. Logan's main summits, and descended by way of King Col after their 30 day expedition. No one has been able to repeat the entire route again.

The fourth and modern shift, still defining itself, has been toward sponsorships, measuring for speed, linking one of more peaks. “We can mark progress in athletic parameters - harder routes done faster and climbing days of incredible endurance - but the most vital climbers still measure their success in the soul, by the depth of engagement and the force of commitment,” Selters writes.

While Selters is comfortable on the other side of the interview table, he is not too anxious to talk Mtn. Spirit. Photo by Andy Seltersabout himself. He grew up in Glendale, California, the product of a family who camped and instilled the value of hard work. But, he suffered from asthma and allergies caused by pollution, so when choosing a college, he moved as far as one can from Southern California and still be in the Golden State. He received his BA in Environmental Biology from Humboldt State University and explored the Trinity Alps, Castle Crags and Mt. Shasta, as well.

This eventually led to a guiding career working in the North Cascades and Alaska Range. Selters said he early on was inspired by Galen Rowell. “I got a little hint of what was possible with enough commitment and energy. Galen Rowell was an amazing tower of energy. His methods were revolutionary for his time. He said you could go to the Himalayas without a giant expedition and engage the mountain on a scale more like you would approach the Sierra, instead of ‘sieging the peak,’” which was more common.

Selters expanded his guiding to include Nepal - a bit more adventurous, since he didn’t know the territory or the culture. While he admitted to getting “a lot of mileage on moderately difficult peaks,” the steepest learning curve was personal. “I learned that happiness comes not from what you succeed at or what you’ve earned.” He eventually did 8 trips to Ladakh, the Tibetan part of India, which he described as “one of the most austere places people live. Death Valley looks like a jungle by comparison.” A Buddhist culture, “their ancestors moved to that region for some reason,” Selters said. “They were mountaineers before there were mountaineers.”

His focus shifted slightly, when he asked for a raise from his guiding company and they refused. He decided to do “less work for more money,” selling photos to a stock photography company, with which he already had experience. At the same time, he moved to the Sierra, at age 33 and continued guiding trips once a year. It was when he turned 40, that he slowed his pace, but not for traditional reasons. In the mid 90s, numerous friends died, including a climbing partner on Dorje Lhakpa, on a 23,000-foot peak in Nepal. At the end of a rappel, his friend, Kurt Schmierer, called “off-rappel.” Moments later Selters heard him fall. He never knew exactly what happened.

When he married Carla Spencer in 1998, they went to Peru for a honeymoon and Selters extended the trip to act in a motion picture for Outdoor Life Network in a documentary called Yerupaja, about a father and son climbing team. He now has his own son, Ace, born Feb. 11, 2003.

While he didn’t pursue acting, his next adventure landing him unwanted media interviews, including one with Oprah Winfrey's staff. He was returning from a climb on the North Buttress of Mt. Kennedy in Canada's Yukon -- purportedly, “the most beautiful climb in the world--when tragedy struck.” The climb went well, but on their return to basecamp, whiteout conditions prevented travel, and their pick-up plane found them on a glacier south of the mountain. The take-off was bumpy and they crashed into a crevasse. Selters incurred a broken back with crushed vertebrae and was wedged in tight, but alive. His climbing partner, too, was alive, but unconscious. The pilot, Selters could tell, was not.

“I knew they’d come looking for us a long as the weather was good,” and they did. Twenty-four hours later, they were pulled out of the plane and transported to Anchorage.

With four months in a body cast, Selters said he had time for “a hard look at reality.” That was the summer of 2001, and in the fall while he pondered his own fate, he watched the events of Sept. 11 unfold. “Without suffering, you don’t really learn much. With mountaineering, you try to minimize suffering, but the whole point of adventure is to push things a bit. Overall, you figure the adventure is going to be better than the suffering. This is how we grow -- when we approach things that are both scary and exciting, and that’s the way of mountaineering.”

Peter Croft traversing in the southern group of the Pallisades. Photo by Andy Selters.Selters sees a slightly different culture emerging post-2001, with a slightly different climbing. In the summer of 2001, the world was our little oyster. After 9-11, there was a general “contraction culture,” which Selters views as less advantageous to growth. Yet, innovative technique still flows, and as war again seems more distant, climbers are expanding their game again.

One branch for the future of mountaineering is in linking routes and ridgelines in a visionary way, according to Selters. Sometimes with an individual mountain, just one of them isn’t big enough,” he said, citing the “enchainment principle,” defined by Peter Croft.

The climbers that are really doing it today have the same kind of balance and character that the guys had who are now 90 years old. Selters interviewed many mountaineers who had admirable careers outside of mountaineering, “And yet in their eyes you could see that mountaineering had been an important part of who they were. You could see that their eyes were really clear."

Selters said the really old timers did things differently, but they had the same goals as the younger generation today. There is a certain element of exploration, as well as a technical challenge that adds to the brotherhood of mountaineers - the desire to go places where not many people have been or maybe nobody has been. Put up with cold, organize logistics . . .”

Selters climbs locally in the Eastern Sierra, but is not planning any major climbing projects right now. “To climb really hard, you need a certain sense of optimism that you’ll withstand, that you can always dig a little deeper,” he said. For now, his next project is the slide show tour promoting "Ways to the Sky" and a book of essays and personal stories.

Review by Karen Riggs
Editor EasternSierra.US

"Ways to the Sky - A Historical Guide to North American Mountaineering"
by Andy Selters pubished by The American Alpine Club Press
710 Tenth Street, Suitte 100, Golden, Colorado, 80401