A literary connection: Wind, Sand and Stars to China’s Wings


I’m ginning up a little radio blurb discussing three books from aviation’s “Golden Age,” and to that end I’ve been reading Antoine de Saint Exupery’s classic Wind, Sand and Stars for what must be the fifth or sixth time since I discovered it in the mid-1990s.

A page of my marginalia

My copy is filled with marginalia, relics of my careful reading (and re-reading) from 2000, the year I wrote Enduring Patagonia.

However, this recent reading is the first time I’ve gone through Wind, Sand and Stars without an eye toward its connections and relevance to climbing.

I’m happy to report that it’s every bit as excellent, and it was with wonder that I discovered Wind, Sand and Stars direct connection to the work I’ve done with China’s Wings.  Here it is; it’s a grim quote, albeit beautifully penned:

“Every week men sit comfortably at the cinema and look on at the bombardment of some Shanghai or other, some Guernica, and marvel without a trace of horror at the long fringes of ash and soot that twist their slow way into the sky from those man-made volcanoes. Yet we all know that together with the grain in the grainaries, with the heritage of generations of men, with the treasures of families, it is the burning flesh of children and their elders that, dissipated in smoke, is slowly fertilizing those black cumuli.”

The Shanghai Saint Exupery is referring to is the Battle of Shanghai fought from mid-August to mid-November, 1937,  between the Japanese invaders and the armies of Chiang Kai-shek. It was one of the first battles of what we now call the Second World War, it was one biggest battles ever fought, and it has been largely forgotten, overshadowed by those fought once the western nations got involved.

Shanghai was the fifth or sixth biggest city in the world in 1937 (behind London, New York, Toyko, Berlin, and, possibly, Chicago), and the battle near-completely destroyed “Greater Shanghai” — that part of the city outside of the International Settlement and the French Concession. More than a quarter of a million people died in the fight, and it’s the backdrop of China’s Wings’ second part, entitled “War.”

Here’s the quote I used on the front piece of that part, from The Battle for Asia by Edgar Snow:

“Great battles, in which thousands of men are torn apart, are forgotten as easily as last year’s Olympics.”

Here’s an album of photographs of the battle taken by Swiss photographer Karl Kenglebacher.

 

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One of the great moments of my life


This afternoon, I completed the first part of the two-fold mission I set for myself when I embarked on this China’s Wings project. My son Ryan and I drove to Moon Chin’s house on the other side of San Francisco Bay and gave him one of my two advanced copies of China’s Wings.

Watching his face glow as he unwrapped the book, cracked its cover, and took a first flip through its pages is one of the great moments of my life. A moment of total satisfaction. I’m absolutely thrilled with the finished product — it is exactly how I’ve been imagining it these last eight years.

I’m deeply honored that Moon trusted me to tell the CNAC story. Quite simply, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without his wholehearted cooperation, and my most sincere hope is that I’ve been able to do the story justice.

My favorite day in the whole researching and writing process was the day spent at the same table over which I passed him his book in these photos. I spent that day  talking about the events of the Hong Kong evacuation of December 1941 with Moon, Frieda, and T.T. Chen — all of whom participated in the evacuation. Toward the end of the afternoon, I apologized for taking so much of their time, and Frieda chirped out, “Don’t worry about it! This is all we sit around and talk about anyway.”

Through the years, Moon gave me dozens of hours of his time — he’s one of the most remarkable men I’ve ever met. Here’s my favorite picture of Moon Chin, taken in 1941, and here’s one of him and me, taken at the CNAC reunion this past September. Earlier in this blog, I’ve shared some of the details of his remarkable life. The stories start here, in All Roads Led to Moon Chin, and work their way forward in time.

The second part of my China’s Wings mission is to ensure that the story of the China National Aviation Corporation takes its rightful place in history. Aside from the incredible flying adventures, so many facets of this story are fascinating and significant: CNAC played a tremendously significant role in the American relationship with China in the 1930s and 40s — a time that continues to shape our relationship with the Middle Kingdom as it emerges from centuries of isolation and struggles to take its place among the world’s great nations.

Without doubt, the China National Aviation Corporation is the most successful Sino-American partnership of all time. May there be many others.

It’s truly a great story.

In April, Moon will celebrate his 99th birthday.

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A few articles about the Compressor Route Controversy


David Roberts’  good and fair “Patagonia’s Cerro Torre Gets the Chop: Maestri Unbolted” for National Geographic Adventure.

Chris Weidner’s “The Biggest Climbing Controversy of the Decade” for Boulder’s Daily Camera.

Kelly Cordes’ “Cerro Torre: Deviations From Reason” on his blog, The Cleanest Line.

Colin Haley’s “The Removal of Casare Maestri’s Bolt Ladders on Cerro Torre”, on his blog, Skagit Alpinism.

An article in Spanish on the La Cachana website, an online newspaper in El Chalten.

Kruk’s and Kennedy’s official statement at Alpinist.

“Climbers Anger Italians by Removing Bolt Ladders from Cerro Torre Peak” from The Guardian.

Andrew Bisharat’s TNB: Cerro Torre for Dumbies at Rock & Ice.

Adam Roy’s “Chopped” at Outside.

Jim Bridwell, His Cerro Torre point of view at PlanetMountain.com

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A CNAC Short Snorter signed by movie star Jinx Falkenburg


The front, signed by CNAC Captains Watson, Ridge Hammell, Bob Jenkins, Billy MacDonald, and Jimmy Scoff

Kai Friese, a writer and CNAC enthusiast in New Delhi, brought this to my attention yesterday — a short snorter signed by Ridge Hammell, Jimmy Scoff, Bob Jenkins, and Billy MacDonald (all of whom are CNAC pilots and characters in China’s Wings). Short Snorters were banknotes signed by persons traveling together during the war — and if you signed a person’s short snorter and that person could not produce it upon request, he or she owed you a drink.

The back of the bill was signed by Hollywood movie star Jinx Falkenburg, who made a USO tour in the CBI in late 1944. Here are some photos of Jinx at “glamour girls of the silver screen,” here’s a picture of Jinx flying the Hump in 1944 that Kai directed me to yesterday, and here’s one of Jinx doing a USO show that is simply spectacular.

Ridge Hammell and Jimmy Scoff both feature quite prominently in the book. Hammell, along with ex-AVG ace Joe Rosbert, survived a plane crash high in the snowy mountains. Their epic 47-day trek back to civilization with badly damaged legs ranks as one of the great tales of mountain survival of all time. Jimmy Scoff’s tales of wanton debauchery have colored every CNAC reunion I’ve attended, best of all being the time he shot the lock off a whorehouse door in Calcutta…

Neither Hammel nor Scoff survived the war, and it boggles my mind to see their signatures so clearly on these bills.

The Short Snorter Project is a website devoted to preserving short snorter history.

Here’s a link to a story Kai Friese wrote about locating the wreckage of CNAC plane #58 — the one in which Ridge Hammell crashed at the beginning of his epic crawl and walk out of the mountains. It’s a great read, with excellent photos, and an event I’ll have more to say about at some later point.

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More on the Compressor Route


So I checked out of the net for a few days and scored classic surf with Mark and Susan Robsinson and Randy Leavitt “somewhere west of Goleta.” We talked a lot about the Compressor Route news about which I posted last week, and I return to find even more amazing and breaking news from Cerro Torre — David Lama apparently free-climbed the Compressor Route, there was a “lynch mob” in El Chalten angry over the bolt-chopping, and more than 500 posts were added to the Supertopo thread.

I’ve got to process and ponder all this. In the meantime, I’ll post some of my best photos taken on the Compressor Route.

Jim Donini climbing toward the Col of Patience, the beginning of our attempt on the Compressor Route with Stefan Hiermaier that failed on the Compressor itself
Me on the headwall close to the end of that attempt, just before Donini told Stefan: “Survival is not assured.”
Charlie Fowler low on the route, above the Col of Patience
Charlie jumaring
Charlie Fowler at the start of the Ice Towers
Charlie Fowler in the Ice Towers
The headwall
Charlie Fowler at sunrise, after our summit bivy
The summit mushroom at sunrise
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China’s Wings on Facebook


I’ve built a Facebook page for China’s Wings, and if you “like” it with the button at the bottom of the sidebar on the right (or find and like it through FB search), you’ll find a photo album of CNAC-related stuff that I’ve been building… lots of airplane and people pics from the ’30s and ’40s, as well as scans of travel posters, documents, pen and ink drawings, more modern pics of people in the book, etc.

I’m trying to add one photo a day (or every few days) to the album — I’ve got dozens, if not hundreds, of excellent stuff to add, so I should be able to keep this up for a while.

(And I’d love to get new stuff from CNAC people, too… so if you’ve got some, please do email ’em to me.)

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The Compressor Route chopped… more thoughts


JJ Brooks eyeing Cerro Torre’s SE Ridge

Having slept on it, I find myself more uncomfortable with the news that the upper sections of Maestri’s Compressor Route were chopped by Hayden Kennedy and Jason Kruk as they descended after making the first “fair means” ascent of Cerro Torre’s Southeast Ridge than I was last night, when I first heard the news and briefly posted about it.

First off, I’m a climber and a historian and I love Patagonia and I think I’ve got the chops to prove all those claims.  I love the story of history — some of my first writings were the Goldline climbing stories that appeared in Rock & Ice in the mid-90s, and I’ve just finished writing a narrative non-fiction World War II flying story — ie, a history book — that I’ve been working on for the last eight YEARS.

(It’s called China’s Wings, and somewhat amazingly considering the current circumstances, the genesis of the idea came from my own adventures on the Compressor Route.)

I think all climbers can agree that Maestri’s Compressor Route is — or was — a world-renowned piece of climbing history, and I think all of us deplore the style and ethics of its first ascent.

However, I find myself lamenting its loss, and I’m hurt that members of my community have taken it away from me without giving me an opportunity to voice my opinion about whether or not it should stand. Without giving ANY of the rest of us that opportunity.

That route was our common possession, and now it’s gone. “The Compressor Route is no more,” as Rolando Garibotti posted last night.

But should we flatten the Pyramids because they were built with slave labor, and we deplore slavery? Should we plow under Auschwitz because of the horrible deeds and philosophies perpetrated within its walls? Obviously not.

In my mind, a great piece of history has been taken from us, and we are the poorer for its loss.

If The Compressor Route was to be removed, it should have been removed only after a long period of open and public debate in which all of us were given the opportunity to voice our opinions — and perhaps to cast votes. The manner of its recent removal is patently undemocratic, and of that, I do not approve.

We should have been afforded the opportunity to make the decision as a community.

Cerro Torre casts a long shadow

Also, the last time I looked, Cerro Torre was entirely in Argentina. If such a massive change were to be made to such a famous route, on such a marvelous mountain, in such a wonderful country, surely the actual action should have been taken by the Argentine climbing community?

A mountain can certainly be desecrated; I’m not so sure one can be consecrated.

Cerro Torre’s titanic indifference is what has always amazed me most.

*     *     *

[EDIT 1/24/12: Here are some of my best photos from the Compressor Route]

EP PB coverEnduring Patagonia, the book I wrote about my Patagonian adventures (which features my adventures on the Compressor Route and on Cerro Torre’s West Face in winter):

cover 3 Right Mate, Let’s Get On With It: about the incredible partnership between Andrew Lindblade and the late Athol Whimp, my favorite climbing article I’ve ever written, available on Amazon.com for $.99

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The Compressor Route chopped!


That's me jumaring on Cerro Torre's headwall in a storm in 1996 -- right through the section that has just been chopped

The Supertopo thread just posted by Rolando Garibotti — a friend I much admire and treasure — clarifies the facts of Hayden Kennedy’s and Jason Kruk’s “fair means” ascent of Cerro Torre’s Southeast Ridge. They did make the climb without using any of Maestri’s bolts for progress, although they possibly might have used some of his belay bolts, and on the way down they “chopped” (ie, removed) the entire headwall, and at least one of the pitches below it. Rolo doesn’t seem to have posted an update yet on his pataclimb.com website, although I’d imagine he soon will, and that will have additional information.

According to Rolo’s initial post, “The Compressor Route is no more.”

I’ve known for years Rolo has had it out for that route, since well before he published his American Alpine Journal article that so convincingly exposed Maestri’s 1959 first ascent story as a complete hoax, but I confess to having mixed feelings about the chopping. I’m sure I can get used to the idea, and the mountain is certainly closer to its original state than it was a few days ago, but on the other hand, it’s the end of an incredible story, and I think “the story” might be the thing I like most about climbing — whether mine or someone else’s.

Standing on top of Maestri’s Compressor is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’m a little saddened that opportunity isn’t in the world any longer.

(I’m actually fool enough to have been there twice.)

Climbing is such a fascinating theater of character.

Update: I’ve also just posted some more thoughts about this.

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