CATEGORIES
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Active Junky reached out – and high – to grab noted climbing author Kelly Cordes. His new release, The Tower, takes readers to Patagonia and beyond while seeking the truth about a historic first ascent claim. Now the pen’s in the other hand as we bring a trio of challenges his way.
How different from weekend climbers at places like Eldorado Canyon (near Boulder, Colorado) are the climbers you profile in The Tower?
Pretty different, yet often similar. How’s that for an answer? But it’s true. On the whole, the climbers profiled in my book are a fairly elite group. I suppose that’s no surprise; it takes one glance at Cerro Torre to understand there’s nothing ordinary about it. It’s desperately steep on all sides, its easiest route has overhanging climbing. The variable conditions inherent to alpine climbing, combined with Patagonia’s violent storms, make it incredibly challenging on multiple levels.That said, on any given day in a place like Eldo, you’re bound to run into some amazing climbers. Rolando Garibotti, one of Patagonia’s greatest climbers, lived in Boulder for years and was an Eldo regular. Meeting him, you’d have no idea he’s such a phenom. Same with Hayden Kennedy, who often climbs there these days. If Ermanno Salvaterra were coming through to visit, I’d take him to Lumpy, RMNP and Eldo in the same way he gave me a tour of his local climbing and welcomed me to his home.
One of the coolest things about climbing is that many climbers frequently areas that contain a diverse range of difficulties. Which means that, on any given day, you might end up climbing next to Rolo, Hayden, Ermanno, Silvo Karo, David Lama or any number of “greats.” Climbing is pretty cool like that. While an average hoops player will never share the court with Michael Jordan, it happens quite often in a climbing Mecca like Boulder.
Image via Kelly Cordes
What lessons about human nature, positive and negative, can the reader expect in the book?
I suppose the lessons are subject to interpretation, which suits your question well. Over the course of researching and writing this book, I realized the way we see the world is often colored by our inherent beliefs. Even seemingly unassailable facts are often subject to individual interpretation. No surprise there, I guess; it happens regularly with all kinds of political and social issues. Many of us, however, remain susceptible to facts (which is a good thing). But quite often, when it comes to issues that carry emotional weight for a person, evidence is no match for belief.
Perhaps more instructive is to learn from the pitfalls that have plagued humans since the beginning, the same ones that reappear in the Cerro Torre story. Factors like the perils of hubris and the traps people set for themselves through lies. Sometimes it seems like everything changes but nothing really does.
How has your view of a) climbing and b) nature (as in, mountains) changed in writing the book?
Odd as this may sound, I’ve come to see climbing as even more similar to many human activities. We bring to it our passion, our vanity, our talent, our egos, our frailties, our bravery, our intelligence and stupidity along with everything else that makes us human. Yet, to me, alpinism still remains incredibly special.
I already had tremendous respect for nature, and my reverence for the mountains has only grown. Wild places are worth preserving. I think we should consider carefully the degree to which we’re willing to compromise these places for our short-lived desires. Of course we also want to experience nature’s wonder, so it’s a balance.
To tie the ideas together with Cerro Torre and Cesare Maestri’s controversial Compressor Route (and its controversial removal), I value the mountain’s inherent mysteries over man’s desire to reach a summit by any means. Cerro Torre’s 65 million years of magnificence carries more weight for me than 40 years of one man’s hubris. But not everyone agrees, which makes it all the more interesting.
