Careful with that ice axe Eugene: Return of The Angry Corrie!
One of the outdoor 'zine' publications which became an influence and inspiration behind the creation of Footless Crow has emerged-phoenix like- from it's two year hibernation with a current edition selling like hot cakes -or possibly stale buns- from various outdoor outlets and through postal subscriptions. The Angry Corrie -the quirky and off beat Scottish hillwalking zine- was launched by Derbyshire born born Dave Hewitt in 1991 as a modest print publication which was sold in Scotland and northern England.
Lacking the glossy commercial style of contemporary outdoor publications,the editor opted instead for a aesthetically spare look which eshewed photographs and advertisements and instead offered lengthy articles on such things as obscure mountaineers,hill stats and remote howths. The publication usually opted for cartoons and drawings over photographic illustrations. TAC relied entirely on the unpaid contributions of it's enthusiastic supporters.
Dave Hewitt who formerly worked as an outdoor writer on the Scotsman before moving on to the Caladonian Mercury, has authored books on hillwalking in Scotland and the legendary hill walker, Alfred Wainwright.With his journalistic demands tied into his commercial work, TAC had fallen into a state of suspended animation until it's recent welcome re-awakening.
"When George Mallory returned to the fray he entered a period which became his golden age on Welsh and English rock. 1911 was the year in which he established some of his hardest routes. Routes which still have the capacity to intimidate and challenge modern climbers.
After a very futuristic pre inspection of the crux pitch from above by Mallory, it was in fact Harold Porter who led the crux of the climb which ironically is now known as Mallory’s Ridge rather than perhaps more deservedly Porter’s Ridge ? During their stay at the Snowdon Ranger, the same pair established the equally bold Eastern Gutter and the less demanding Trinity Buttress B on Llechog and opened up Cwm Silyn by establishing the areas’ first ever route. Four Pitch Gully on Clogwyn Cysgod. Finally, in 1911, Mallory climbed a direct 4c finish to Lliwedd’s Far East Cracks.
It had been a fine return to form after the accident .
A team of Russian mountaineers is attempting to achieve what no other mountaineering party has achieved before. A winter ascent of K2 -the world's second highest peak. If the attempt is successful it will be the first time the pyramidal giant has been climbed outside of the more clement seasons.
The 15 strong team will endure temperatures of more than 50 below zero and wind speeds of up to 40 mph as they attempt to achieve their historic goal. The campaign is expected to take up to 3 months.
"This is only possible for a Russian team," said Victor Kozlov, the leader of the expedition, whose members put up a new route on K2 in 2007. "God willing, we can make it," he said this week in the Pakistani capital, ahead of his journey to the Karakoram range in the far north of the country.
Winter ascents of the world's 14 highest mountains are some of most prized achievements left in climbing. The 14 eight thousand feet peaks have all received their first ascents in the summer months. Amid a crowded field where each year hundreds pay around $80,000 to be guided up Everest, winter ascents can help a climber stand out and get his or her name in the history books.
Winter climbers have been summitting the 14 highest peaks one by one the past decades. However, many peaks within the Karakorum region remained unconquered. The range is further north than the Himalayas, where Everest is located, and thus sees harsher winters. K2 is the northernmost peak of all the major mountains.
Teams attempted winter ascents in the Karakorum 16 times in recent years. The first success came this year, when a three-member team including American Cory Richards summitted Gasherbrum II. That left only four peaks, three of them in the Karakorum and one nearby in the Himalayas.
"If they make it up K2 in winter, it will be huge," said Billi Bierling, a mountaineering journalist with three "eight thousanders" to her name, including Everest.
Elite mountaineers thrive on first ascents, new routes on established peaks and climbing in the "purest style" possible. That typically means no porter assistance high up on the slopes, no oxygen bottles or no reliance on fixed ropes left by other parties.
The Russians, who start their ascent around Christmas, are not using oxygen and will have porters at base camp only. Their gear and food — including three freshly slaughtered yaks and, according to Kozlov, a little vodka — is being flown in by Pakistani army helicopters charging more than $7,000 an hour.
Winter climbing means less daylight and temperatures around twice as cold as summer, making frostbite more of a danger. Living conditions at base camp are more miserable, winds are more vicious, there is more snow, greater avalanche risk and climbers need more food and equipment to stay alive.
The one plus: "The mountains are less crowded," said Bierling.
A Polish team was first up an "eight-thousander" in winter, topping out on Everest in February 1980. The triumph set the stage for a decade of other successful expeditions, mostly by a group Polish climbers nicknamed "The Ice Warriors."
The Russians intend to follow the "Cesen" route up K2 before venturing to the 8,611-meter summit from a face that has never been climbed, hoping it will allow them to avoid the worst of the wind. They plan to fix ropes and establish camps up the mountain. They will then wait for a window of clear weather, at most a few days sometime in February or early March, and make a summit dash.
K2 is renowned for terrible, unpredictable weather and steeper slopes than Everest. In the summer of 2008, 11 climbers died in an avalanche, the deadliest incident on a peak that has the second-highest fatality rate among the "eight-thousanders." More than 300 have reached the top, but at least 80 have died trying.
Andrzej Zawada, the Polish climber who made Everest's first winter ascent, tried K2 in 1987.
In a written account, he said that from the end of December there was so much snow at base camp they had to dig tunnels to get into their tents. In 80 days on the mountain, they had just 10 days of good weather. They retreated after reaching a high point of 7,300 meters, frostbitten, their tents and ropes ripped off the mountain in the wind.
"We did everything that was humanly possible in those inhospitable conditions," he wrote. "We were simply powerless in the face of such dangerous, formidable and life threatening elements which people have to confront in the highest mountains."
Ashraf Aman, the first Pakistani climber to summit K2, said he thought the Russians stood a chance. "They are a strong team, and experienced, but it depends on the weather," he said. He urged them to be fearless: "If you face death in the face, it will run away like a dog." There are two other expeditions elsewhere in the Karakorams this winter.
Pakistan has long welcomed foreign mountaineering expeditions, which bring cash and jobs into one of the country's poorest regions. While climbers are hardy types, the spike in Islamist terrorism in the country over the last five years has led to a sharp drop in arrivals, said Naiknam Karim, from Adventure Tours Pakistan, which is organising the Russian push.
"The biggest hurdle is the law and order situation and the perception outside the country," he said. "Sometimes the climbers want to come, but their families don't allow it."
Alf Bridge (front 2nd right) and members of the Rucksack Club at a 1929 meet.
Maurice Linnell (back extreme left) and Colin Kirkus (Back 4th right) included.
There is a photograph of Alf Bridge in Byne and Sutton's book High Peak: it was taken in 1928 when he was at the height of his powers. Even in his climbing gear their is no hiding his stocky, muscular frame and sturdy legs. For those who have not heard of his repu­tation as an anti-establishment figure, his determined stance and strong jawline in many ways reflect Alf's unyielding approach to mountaineering and life.
Like many Mancunians of his generation be was attracted to the local gritstone edges, both as an escape from the depression and as an out­let for his restless energies. This was a few years before the Kinder Scout Mass Trespass when huge swathes of the Peak were patrolled by keepers and virtually became no go areas.
In the early '30s he joined the Rucksack Club but it proved to be a short-lived union that was to highlight his confrontational personality. The problem occurred after a tiring day in the Lakes when he turned up at the Wayfarers' Robertson Lamb Hut in Langdale, hoping to use the Rucksack Club's reciprocal rights. It is said that Alf was told in no uncertain terms; there was no room for him due to a Wayfarers' Meet. Words were exchanged and, whether or not it was the leader's aggres­sive manner when he squared up to Alf is uncertain, but his antagonist suddenly found himself spread-eagle on the stone floor, courtesy of Alf's right hook! Alf then left. A complaint was made and he was called to a meeting of the Rucksack Club Committee to explain the incident. No doubt,objecting to being called to account, he promptly resigned his membership.
It was on Stanage FAgr in 1931 that Alf and Maurice Linnell led a couple of promising climbers from Sheffield railed Cliff Moyer and Eric Byne, up Manchester Buttress and along the Black Hawk Girdle — the same pair later went on to produce at least 20 new climbs on Stanage. In the same period Alf pioneered Robin Hood Innominate (VS) and then, at his muscular best he powered up Cave Gully Wall (VS) in the snow, for a first ascent. Forty years later a climbing guide described the route as 'needing care, being hard and dangerous'.
The running belay had yet to be developed and it was about this time Alf started to practise his skill of jumping from heights. He argued that if a leader was in danger of falling he should turn and leap for a suit­able landing spot Eric Byne wrote, Visits to Stanage were often enlivened by Alf Bridge who would demonstrate his "Technique of Falling," an art of which he was a master. His deliberate and controlled falls of 30ft and over on such climbs as Black Stab, Christmas Crack and Black Hawk Girdle 'were something once seen could never be forgotten'.
Alf had first met Maurice Linnell in the late '20s at Cratcliffe Tor and it was after this meeting they recorded over 60 consecutive climbing weekends together.. In 1929 they visited Black Rocks where Alf led the direct start to Birch Tree Wall.This thin,curving crack had surpris­ingly defeated Jack Longland.,and it was there, with Longland and Ivan Waller a couple of years later, that Alf made his incredible, on sight lead of Lean Man's Superdirect.He became totally committed high in the Crack and struggled to reach a thin pocket hold that felt spongy as he pulled up on it, then, to his horror, discovered he had squashed and killed two fledglings in their nest!
His friends followed but persuaded him not to claim the route thinking it was unjustifiable. Peter Harding led the climb 13 years later thinking it was a first ascent. Tony Moulam considers Alf's effort as -'perhaps the greatest single feat teat on these rocks. His visits to the Lakes were no less exciting. Alf and Linnell used to meet on a Wednesday evening in a Manchester cafe to plan their climb­ing trips. The Girdle Traverse of Pillar Rock (VS) was mooted there in April 1931 and completed the following Whit. Linnell led the route with Alf and A B Hargreaves in support. The climb is 1,300ft in length and took seven hours, spread over three days and contains many of the finest pitches on Pillar.
Then there was a remarkable incident on Central Buttress, Scafell when Alf was attempting to lead a first ascent of the Flake Crack with­out assistance or a belay at the chockstone and fell out of the layback position, but somehow managed to grab the chockstone with his left hand on the way down. On The Oval below, Linnell and A B Hargreaves watched open-mouthed as he eventually found a foothold and tied on. The route was then completed in the conventional way.
The same team, in 1931, with the addition of W Dyson turned their attention to Esk Buttress. Standing in splendid isolation at the head of a remote valley its potential was obvious, yet in those days contained only one route. In 1920, George Bower picked out his fine climb on the more forgiving right-hand section (Bowers Route- Hard Severe).
Nine years later, after completing the third ascent with Colin Kirkus, A B Hargreaves spotted a possible line up the imposing Central Pillar but three years were to pass before the little man returned with his friends. 'We tanked up in the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel until late Saturday night 'A B wrote-'and walked until it was dark- then slept under an overhanging boulder alongside Angle Tarn'.Their enterprise was rewarded as the following day dawned fine and clear and they reached the crag via Esk Hause. It had been decided earlier that Alf would lead. The difficulties were well within his capabili­ties, until he reached a point where the 1974 route The Cumbrian (E5) now goes and was forced leftwards. What followed was a brilliant piece of route finding which produced one of the finest climbs, for its grade, in the Lakes. As a tribute to Alf the route was named after him (Bridge's Route- Hard Severe) Interestingly enough the headwall of The Central Pillar was to deflect the finest climbers of the day, including Dolphin and Birkett, until Pete Crew made the first ascent 30 years later.
Alf was part of the Kirkus-Linnell partnership that featured in the first ascents of Curving Crack and the Direct Finish to the East Buttress on Clogwyn Du'r Arddu . Providing a fascinating snapshot of those days Alf wrote, I remember, one day in winter being on Clogwyn du Arddu with Colin and we almost forced a route now known as Vember. We were in boots and the sole of one of Colin's boots had come adrift and he tied the two parts together with string. Of course, we had very little money and used six inch nails for pitons-. We did without mid­week lunch each Saturday to gain a little extra for the weekend.
As a steeplejack he became a respected figure and formed his own firm. On one occasion he won a tender, against stiff competition, for a structural inspection of the Eiffel Tower. He carried out the job, solo, with little more gear than a rope and gym shoes. There was another episode when he became detached from a high building and fell through a glass roof into a typing pool. Amazingly he was not badly hurt and was offered a cup of tea while the girls wanted to know where he had come from!
Looking to the future, he attended night school and qualified as a structural engineer then, later as a Chartered Engineer. He specialized as an industrial boiler inspector that led to work on the QE2 where he helped to overcome the ship's ongoing boiler problems.
When the Second World War broke out he was in his middle years and became a part-time civilian mountaineering instructor for the Armv based at Helyg, The Climbers' Club hut in the Ogwen Valley. Later there was a spell at the Commando training unit at Achnacarry in Scotland where he taught mountain craft and how to live off the land. It was part of Alf's remit to pay the farmer for any livestock that ended up in the soldiers' pot. There was also a period of duty at the Commando Assault Wing at Bosigran, Comwall. During one training exercise a Commando survived a 100ft fall from the top of the cliffs. He later said he remembered Alf's instruction and jumped for a narrow rift at the cliff base where the sea rose and fell. He hit the sea just as a high wave came in and escaped with little more than a dislocated shoulder.
Some may wonder why,with all his rebellious tendencies he did not upset the Army establishment? Perhaps part of his contribution to the war effort was to toe the military line? However, he was proud of his association with the Commandos and for many years wore a green beret as a token of respect for these men.
Despite the generation gap he became close friends with Peter Harding who helped him to run weekend courses for the Central Council of Physical Recreation. Although, as a rock-climber he was past his best, his powers of endurance were undiminished and he continued with his marathon walks. They were frequent companions on the fells, often ending up at Alfs home at Dore on the outskirts of Sheffield where he lived with his wife Dorothy-they never had children.
He joined 'The Climbers' Club in 1931 and became Hon Secretary in 1950 and a year later he resigned from the Club. The reasons were complex and difficult. He vigorously campaigned for a change in CC policy to provide structured training for younger members. Perhaps he was too outspoken and ran into fierce opposition with those he called 'The Mandarins of the Club'. It was said there was a clash of personalities with Stuart Chantrell, the Custodian of Helyg and when Alf's honesty was called into question in the form of mischievous gossip, he handed in his resignation. Looking back on the problem A B Hargreaves wrote, 'It could have been possible for him to retire with honour, so to speak, to a Vice Presidency but he would not co-operate in this to the great disappointment of his friends and supporters'.
Some years later he was persuaded to rejoin the CC, then under David Cox's presidency, but he became embroiled in what has been described as 'local difficulties.' And once again he resigned. Com­promise did not appear to be part of Alf's make up. He also served as President of the Manchester-based Karabiner Club and The Stonnis Club, which takes its name from Cromford's Black Rocks.
After the end of the war he became friends with near neighbour, Eric Mensforth, then managing director of a business called Normalair that manufactured breathing apparatus — it was a fortunate meeting for British mountaineering.
Mensforth expressed an interest in mountaineering and under the guidance of Alf they had several seasons together in the French Alps and the High Atlas. It was about this time Alf joined The Alpine Club and became heavily involved, together with Mensforth, in the development of the oxygen equipment used in the successful 1953 British ascent of Everest. Mensforth was eventually given a knighthood and there was talk of an award for Alf but he would not have any of it.
When retirement beckoned, Alf and his wife settled at Colwyn Bay but unable to adjust took on a partnership with a firm of engineers in Sheffield. Three years later, in September 1971, the climbing world was stunned to hear that Alf Bridge, who had never ailed throughout his life, collapsed and died at the age of 69 whilst shop­ping with his wife.
In his lifetime he had been described as a stormy petrel, an impos­sible, rumbustious character with a prickly personality and Alf would probably have no problem with that. Despite these flaws many saw him as a loyal friend, with more than his share of dry humour, who could be counted upon in a tight situation. There is also little doubt that in any pre-War climbing'Who's Who' Alf would be up there with the best of them.
I am especially grateful to Peter Harding for his kind help and interest.
KATHMANDU: The Nepalese government will soon declare two of the mountains Phulchowki and Chandragiri in the mountain-rim circling Kathmandu Valley — as conservation areas. The declaration will Coincide with the International Year of the Mountains in 2012 when the government will make a formal declaration, according to Dr. Uday Raj Sharma, Joint Secretary at the Ministry of Forest and Soil Conservation. “We are doing the necessary homework before we make our decision public.” He said the government is designing a project for sustainable developmentand conservation in the two mountain areas that would be implemented after the formal declaration of the two new conservation areas is made.
The government has sought funds from the European Union, according to Ministry officials. “We believe that the EU Headquarters in Brussels would give the project top priority,” Sharma said. However, the finance ministry revealed that it had not as yet approached the EU office. Titled as the Phulchowki-Chandragiri Bio-diversity Conservation Area Project, the scheme is estimated to cost US$ 27 million. “One third of that money would be used for poverty reduction,” said Peter de Vere Moss, co-director at the Bagmati Integrated Watershed Management Programme under the Ministry of Forest and Soil Conservation.
“The project does not restrict the local population to live where they have been living, it will rather empower them with employment and provide environment security.” The two mountains have 40 Village Development Committees in Dhading, Kavre, Kathmandu, Lalitpur, and Makwanpur districts, with a population of around 150,000 people. Phulchowki and Chandragiri are two among the four mountains bordering Kathmandu Valley to the south. The remaining two are Shivapuri to the north and Nagarjuna to the west.
Designed for four years, the project also aims to promote tourism in the Kathmandu Valley, according to Moss. Phulchowki, according to Sharma, is being declared a conservation area keeping in view its rare butterflies and birds while Chandragiri will be conserved for its watershed reserves.“At the heart of such projects is sustainable mountain development. Moreover, such conservation areas will add to the greenery in Kathmandu Valley.”The idea to conserve the two mountains has to do with the preservation of the mid hills in the country, according to ministry officials.
“The mid hills are under represented from the conservation point of view,” said Sharma. “That is why we have identified the new sites.” Such conservation areas will also serve as links between the conserved areas in the Himalayan belt to the north and the conserved areas to the south, according to Ukesh Raj Bhuju, Programme Director at the World Wildlife Fund, Nepal Programme.
A celebration is to be held to remember the extraordinary life of George Band who was an important member of the successful 1953 Everest expedition and who became the first man to climb Kangenjunga with Joe Brown in 1955.
The celebration will be held on Tuesday 20th December at the Royal Geographical Society in London.
George Band was born in Taiwan in 1929 to parents working as missionaries. He was educated at Eltham College, London and Cambridge and London Universities, where he studied Geology and Petroleum Engineering. During National Service he was an officer in the Royal Corps of Signals. At Cambridge he was President of the University Mountaineering Club.
He was the youngest climber on the 1953 Everest expedition led by Colonel John Hunt, aged just 23. Two years later he went to Kangchenjunga on an expedition led by Charles Evans, and with Joe Brown, made the first ascent of the mountain, the third highest in the world and which was then then the highest peak still unclimbed. Further expeditions to the Alps, the Caucasus, Peru and the Karakoram followed.
After retiring from the oil industry, George spent more time climbing and trekking, and began lecturing on his mountain experiences. In 2003, to mark the Everest Jubilee he wrote Everest: 50 Years on Top of the World, and this was followed in 2007 by Summit: 150 Years of the Alpine Club, in celebration of the founding of the world’s oldest mountaineering club in 1857. George also became Chairman of the Himalayan Trust UK in 2003 and served in a number of other positions including: Chairman of the Mount Everest Foundation; Member of the Council of the Royal Geographical Society and; Appeal Patron for BSES Expeditions.
The North Wall of the Eiger is a supreme mountaineering challenge. Its history is wildly dramatic, full of adventure and tragedy. From the earliest attempts by German and Austrian climbers in the 1930s, the best of each generation of climbers has taken on the Eiger’s fearsome rockfall and shadowy reputation to make their own mark. Two of the world’s most famous Eiger climbers, Sir Chris Bonington and Swiss legend Ueli Steck, will tell of their encounters with the Eiger in a unique lecture evening at the Royal Geographic Society to raise funds for the Mountain Heritage Trust.
The lecture will be held in the Ondjaate Theatre at the Royal Geographical Society on Thursday 1st December 2011 at 7pm followed by a private dinner at the Polish Club, 55 Exhibition Road, London SW7 2PN, just 150m from the theatre.
Tickets for the dinner to 'Friends of MHT': £50.00 to include pre-dinner champagne, a three course dinner with wine and coffee. Tables of 10 can be organised in advance on request.
Who are the Mountain Heritage Trust ?
The Mountain Heritage Trust (MHT) was called into being in 2000 to preserve the outstanding heritage and history of British climbing and mountaineering. To date we hold an impressive and growing collection of papers, photographs, archive documents, artefacts and film which includes the Chris Bonington archive; the Alfred Gregory collection (Everest 1953); the Simon Yates collection and the papers of Joe Tasker who disappeared with Peter Boardman on Everest in 1982. We also own, amongst other items, the oxygen apparatus used by Dougal Haston when he and Doug Scott became the first Britons to stand on the summit of Everest in 1975 and the Chouinard ice hammer used by Yvon Chouinard himself when he made the direct ascent of the Diamond Couloir on Mount Kenya in 1974.
cultural climbing film which came out in 2009/10 and was set in the industrial towns and immediate environs of West Yorkshire. Harold Drasdo-of this particular parish- offers a belated review of sorts and is impressed by the films sense of purpose.
This is a film by Sally Brown and Martin Wood set in Yorkshire and Derbyshire on the eastern side of the Pennines -- the Backbone of England. 'Lines of Flight' might be read as Means of Escape. The focus shifts intermittently. We see the free soloing of extreme rock climbs, those reaching positions in which a fall would probably result in death rather than serious injury. Or we see life in the settlements below the gritstone outcrops, edges and quarries.
It's a marvellous and wildly ambitious production, a work of art. At film festivals it's won prizes on all sides. The sense of place is fixed through establishing shots of the moors and edges to the accompaniment of readings from Daniel Defoe's Tour through the Whole Island of Great Britain, 1724. They're crisply and expressively delivered by Samuel West, the film's narrator, and they bring out Defoe's restless curiosity. The strategies soon become clear. Topographical writing is looted with passages from the poetry of Wordsworth, Gerard Manley Hopkins and D.H. Lawrence. Layered underneath is a subdued musical score composed and performed by Robin Garside. It adapts to fit each scene.
Sometimes it's delicately airy as a soloist glides upward. Sometimes it's a tension-building pulse-like beat with heavy breathing as he powers his way through overhangs. Throughout the film one focus of attention segues into another without any jarring sense of dislocation, to this viewer at any rate. The filming and editing is by Richard Heap.
The strategies include the straight interview. The subjects aren't interrogated. They've simply been encouraged to talk freely about their practices, aspirations and felt rewards. I couldn't identify all of the climbers seen in action but the principal performers are named. Amongst those featured Andy Cave went straight from school to become a miner, working the deep coal seams until he saw the light, discovered the gritstone surprisingly close to his home, and qualified eventually as a professional climbing guide.
Andrew Popp is an academic, a historian, and he reflects on the meditative, almost trance-like sense of sustainment, a ritualistic kind of performance art, that hard solo can offer. He resists the suggestion that it's simply thrill-seeking. He also asks himself whether there isn't an essential selfishness in risking one's life since that would impact on others. 'Whatever does not kill us makes us strong', said Nietzche. There's some truth in it but it's an oversimplification. It might cripple us.
Graham Hoey, a teacher, ponders with the disarming modesty of all the soloists the problem of how to get work satisfaction when you're not given enough time to do a job properly. He sees solo as the purest form of the sport with great risks and great rewards. Allan Austin, hero of a bygone era, appears. I was startled and amused to see the A3 5 van in which I accompanied him on his first trips to Derbyshire and Langdale. In typically forthright manner he promotes rock climbing as the best game of all time – as thrilling as sports car racing and a lot cheaper -- and he gives a surprising and entertaining account of his own introduction. Some old footage from Ilkley, from the late forties and early fifties is incorporated in his declaration.
In counterpoise, the settlements beneath the West Riding moors and the new cities of the plain are examined. We see archive film, the hazardous activity of a Victorian steelworks, the huge garment factories, the endless production and assembly lines. Rapidly the distinctive regional character of the mill towns is erased and the camera shifts onto crowds of commuters hurrying back to work or racing around to fit shopping in. We're in a post-modern, post-industrial conurbation of new warehouses and malls which could be anywhere in Britain. "There's a shopping centre there but nobody actually lives there," someone says. Even here, though, we see a rebellious display of street dance by a pavement and railing acrobat running through his repertoire of smart moves.
He's not doing it with cap thrown down like a busker. He's doing it for fun, to release energy, to show that escape is possible anywhere and by all sorts of means.
In sharp contrast to these escapologists another class of expert witnesses is paraded. They're sociologists of a kind, professors who give their take on the world we live in. It's a world of vicious competition in which, they agree, 'we want cash' becomes 'we want more cash', a world in which as much as possible is commodified and put up for sale. Therefore in their literature they can happily use the expression 'Lines of Flight' to describe activities like walking or climbing which escape or resist commodification.
At this point I want to enter a protest at the language they use, the way they talk. It's a developed terminology which critics might attack as sociobabble. It's built from a vocabulary of high-order abstractions. Here I'm quoting from privileged information, a lengthy document supporting the film. The concept of 'lines of flight' was actually first proposed in the 1980s by Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, a philosopher and a psychoanalyst. "Lines of Flight are ruptures, cuts, cracks and irregular and transverse lines of breakage, as well as folds and crease lines – interruptions without breakage – that divide a surface, landscape or space." The point is that I've taken this sentence absolutely at random from their page-long attempts at a definition. What's really needed is an effort to move down the ladder of orders of abstraction to find a language built on operational definitions.
Presently a man with feet in both action and theory appears and proceeds to interview himself. This is Martin Wood, the dreamer and fixer who directed the film. (Sally Brown is given equal credit and I assume that she is the producer and that Brown Bear Productions is her outfit.) At the time of filming Wood was lecturing at York University but he's now a Professor at Melbourne Institute of Technology. He charms us with his self-effacing manner and then happens to let out that he's soloed some or all of the desperate outings featured. He's a Renaissance Man for our times. He's sweetly reasonable. Nowadays, he points out, we're all in the same boat. The university lecturer shares anxieties about tenure with council workers fearful of cuts and with manufacturers watching rates of exchange. We all need fields for free action, some intensity in an outlet for escape.
The seasoned climber reading Loose Scree might well lose patience with the airy concepts and propositions underlying the film. Yet it stands entirely and easily on its own merits It demanded the collaboration of a very large number of people but everything's come together. Having watched it many times it still grasps me as I re-run it.
Lines of Flight: DVD, 22 mins, 16:9.