The Aristocracy of Adventure: the Influence of 19Th-Century Environmental Thought on One Hundred Years of Wilderness Preservation and Mountaineering

The Aristocracy of Adventure: The Influence of 19th-Century Environmental Thought On One Hundred Years of Wilderness Preservation and Mountaineering Fred Turner i n April and May of 1996, Seattle resident and Outside contributor Jon Krakauer journeyed to the Himalaya to climb Mt. Everest. Krakauer initially planned to report on the commercialization of Everest—the ever-increasing number of people, the Westernization of the Nepal region, and, ironically, the constant media hype that arises from the icy, cold shoulders of the world's tallest peak. While his coverage showed the mountain's susceptibility to dam age caused by humans, it also highlighted its accessibility, especially to those short on experience, yet wealthy enough to pay for a guided trip. Such dialec tics between susceptibility and accessibility, and expertise and wealth can be seen to varying degrees in books such as David Breashears's High Exposure, Goran Kropp's Ultimate High, and Krakauer's Into Thin Air. Krakauer wrote his book to raise awareness of mountaineering's dangers and impact; and yet, in revealing the ease of attempting Everest, he also inspired people to follow his footsteps. Here is the paradox of conservation literature, one that has existed in American history and literature for over a century. In the 18th and early 19th centuries, wilderness literature was not aimed at preserving nature—indeed, as shown by historians including William Cronon and Roderick Nash, wilderness was seen as an enemy. However, in the mid and late 19th century, as wild land decreased in the face of westward expansion and a burgeoning population, nature came to be viewed as a beneficial source of spiritual and agricultural renewal. As the 20th century approached and Ameri 52 Aethlon XX:2 / Spring 2003 cans attempted to define mankinds new relation to nature, writers struggled to achieve equilibrium in describing the effects of nature, both negative and positive, on mankind and vice versa. During this time period, it was in the works of pivotal writers such as Henry Thoreau, John Burroughs, John Muir, and Theodore Roosevelt that the tension between wilderness's preservation and promotion, its value as both resource and rejuvenator, began to take shape. Since then, the impact of mankind's ravaging effects on the environment in creased. Simultaneously, efforts to recognize and curb that damage have also expanded through the usage of mass media. Unfortunately, the media used to raise awareness can cause as much harm as good. By delivering photos and stories from all regions of the planet, print, television, and Internet sources can spur would-be armchair enthusiasts to visit new areas. As such, these new en thusiasts embody both the savior and inadvertent destroyer of wilderness. The simple logic of the correlation between increased coverage and the number of visitors to the wilderness belies the complexities underlying the importance of the paradox of conservationism. One of the major complexities driving the continual evolution and manifestation of this paradox is the con cept of elitism—a sense that only a select group of people can or deserve to enjoy the wilderness. By following the nuances of this thread in all the ways that the definition of elitism shifts throughout the centuries, one sees how the environment reflects the cultural perceptions and motives of the time and age. For example, the creation of the National Parks system at the turn of the last century established enormous tracts of wild land, mostly in the West, that mir rored the nation's push for retention, as opposed to destruction, of wild land and that provided a venue for the development and fulfillment of the Ameri can ideal. And yet, at the end of the 19th century, those who defended wilder ness and most vocally supported its preservation often opposed its democrati zation, reserving its use to proliferate theories of manliness and self-reliance. Adding to the disparity was the remoteness of wilderness; in an era before automobiles and planes and given the financial resources required to travel there, the outdoors was accessible primarily to the wealthy. Perceptions and realities of the wilderness only served to underscore the goals of the society, as during the same time period, capitalism's salience produced a then unheard of discrepancy between the moneyed classes and the lower class. The study of wilderness thus provides a unique lens into the cultural and political atmo spheres of an era and time. Elitism has interestingly remained a constant element in the discourse on environmentalism. From income disparity to physical prowess, elitism has manifested itself within the discourse and shaped its progress. During Thoreaus period, it centered on intelligence—an ability to understand the higher con nections between mankind and nature; during Roosevelt's time, it centered on manliness; and throughout both of those periods and much of the 20th cen tury, it has involved money. However, wealth as a factor in elitism began to Turner / The Aristocracy of Adventure 53 diminish during the last half of the 20th century. One of the reasons was the equalizing effects of the automobile and the adjoining vehicular access to many wilderness areas as well as the appearance of affordable camping gear on the outdoor retail market. Another reason was the ubiquitous force of toxicity and its universal destructiveness as described by historian Lawrence Buell in his Writing for an Endangered World. Yet, even as wealth ceased to be one of the defining elements of elitism, a new requisite was beginning to take it's place: as the 21st century has unfolded, the focus has become skill and expertise in outdoor activity. Elitism's focus has become more personal and individualist, as American society has found itself becoming more atomized and self-focused. Because elitism has continued in this vein, it has enabled the more individualistic wilderness sports, including mountaineering, to have a sense of "frontierism." And as a result of this newfound frontierism, mountaineering holds a unique position as a terrain where these ideas of conservation and elitism are constantly exemplified and challenged. The Founding Fathers Before examining the history of elitism in environmental discourse, it is important to ask: What makes elitism such a crucial driver of the paradox of conservation literature? The answer is twofold: in order to protect wilderness, like any other rare object, it is necessary to keep most people out and to pre vent novices from vitiating nature. Yet at the same time, the cause of environ mentalism requires broad-based support to maintain its existence; thus, this sense of elitism has often been masked in environmental literature, giving the impression that outdoor activity is open to all people. In Walden, Thoreau suggests an elite communion of nature—available only to those who are both physically and intellectually capable. He supports such an elitism in various ways: he praises solitude, he emphasizes the possibility for a select few to connect with wilderness on a higher, metaphysical level, and he practices what he preaches by living alone in the woods west of Boston, Massachusetts. He writes, "I never found the companion that was so compan ionable as solitude" and "when I compare myself with other men, it seems as if I were more favored by the gods than they ... as if I had a warrant and surety which my fellows have not" (91, 89). By focusing on transcendental interaction with nature, Thoreau purveys a passive pastoralism with man as the mediator between civilization and nature. He establishes this egocentric stance by showing the wild as a place, if not an idea, where humans can find solitude and peace. As such, nature requires man's presence if it is to have a definable value. Thoreau locates man in this position when he writes: 54 Aethlon XX:2 / Spring 2003 It was very queer ... to feel this faint jerk, which came to interrupt your dreams and link you to Nature again. It seemed as if I might next cast my line upward into the air, as well as downward into this element which was scarcely more dense. Thus I caught two fishes as it were with one hook. (118) Such egocentrism speaks to a large-scale elitism, one in which only hu mans can bring nature to cognizance. A contemporary scholar of Thoreau that shared the same sense of human- focused bond between mankind and nature, John Burroughs employed a more realistic style as opposed to the metaphysical writing of Thoreau. While he describes his aim as "paint[ing] the bird, or the trout, or the scene, for its own sake, truthfully anyhow, and picturesquely as I can," he also argued for the inseparability of the individual and his or her environment: "One's own land scape comes in time to be a sort of outlaying part of himself broadcast upon it, and it reflects his own moods and feelings; he is sensitive to the verge of the horizon: cut those trees, and he bleeds; mar those hills, and he suffers" (Ways o f Nature, 238; Signs and Seasons, 5). Despite this similarity, Burroughs's writing serves as a compelling counterpoint to Thoreau and others who would follow in his footsteps. Burroughs, who did not champion elitism, urged all people to visit the outdoors and observe its beatitude. It was during this time—the 1880's and 1890's—that outdoor adventure was beginning to gain acceptance as a leisure activity; indeed, multitudes of people were flocking from New York City and its environs to vacation at resorts in the Adirondack Mountains in what was called the "Murray Rush." (William H.H. Murray, who wrote Adven tures in the Wilderness, is often credited with spurring people to the Adirondacks.) Even though Burroughs's writing was met initially with popularity, those that had advocated elitism would be more widely read over the next century.

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