I honestly can say that I disagree with much of what Bruce Barcott has to say about mountaineering- that may be because of my personal bias, but I can’t separate it from my opinion on this topic. On the other hand I do agree with some of his generalizations, but I think he tends to simplify the mountaineering narrative.

Yes, of course, mountaineering is often defined by drama, although it is not always defined by tragedy. Yes, we can look at the most popular mountaineering stories, and they usually involve feats of overcoming great odds, man versus the elements, and the more men that die the more intense the story. In reality, when the average Bozemanite goes mountaineering in the Beartooths or the Spanish Peaks, they are looking for adventure not tragedy, and oftentimes not even drama. Of course, the best stories are usually combined with an element of unintended danger, but that is not the defining narrative of the adventure, nor is it an intended or wanted consequence. Some people who Barcott describe are just the opposite, it is true, but they are not the majority.

I do, on the other hand, completely agree that the climbing narrative that belongs to many literary adventurers, utilizes an element of tragedy. But these are not your average mountaineers, they are part of an upper echelon of career mountaineers (they are only in this echelon because they take risks that provoke tragedy and drama, then go on to write about them), but they are not always top-tier athletes, it is just that they like to take risks. So when we are speaking of the climbing narrative employed by dangerous mountaineers of a special tier, yes tragedy is one of the most defining characteristics, but that is not true for the vast majority of mountaineers, including possibly the best athletes (the best athletes do not always take the greatest risks) .

Mountaineers have been increasingly upping the ante in the mountains as Barcott describes, but it not always out of a desire for drama and tragedy. There are mountaineers who fit his description, but even for the upper tier he misses the mark by a bit. The people who’s “favorite motif of the climbing writer is the saga of self-inflicted suffering, invariably undertaken against impossible odds and for no rational purpose” occupy a much smaller percentage of mountaineers than Barcott assumes. However, many climbers do self-inflict pain and drama in order to conquer goals that are being progressively increased because of human nature, the nature of sports in general, especially mountaineering. Even when examining athletes that partake in free-solo climbing (climbing without ropes or the aid of anything), they are not doing it for the drama or tragedy- that would inevitably involve death. Instead, one is proving the mastering of their technique, while endeavoring on something that is supposed to be extremely controlled and safety maximized. Many people look up at someone 2,000 feet above the ground without a rope, and call them irrational, and that comes from an ignorance of climbing or mountaineering.

Just because we can’t all “stand in front of a Tiananmen tank and bask in the bold moment.” does not mean the only way to prove bravery is by taking tremendous risk, or the “possibility of courage.” Not as many mountaineers have the inferiority complex Barcott describes, who, it seems, has a dispassion against this sport.