‘Mountains have given structure to my adult life. I suppose they have also given me purpose, though I still can’t guess what that purpose might be. And although I have glimpsed the view from the mountaintop and I still have some memory of what direction life is meant to be going in, I usually lose sight of the wood for the trees. In other words, I, like most of us, have lived a life of structured chaos.’

This first paragraph of Victor Saunders’ hugely enjoyable memoir gives a flavour of just how engaging his writing style is and why I found it almost impossible to put his story down – not many books tempt me to stay up until the early hours of the morning so that gives you some idea of how good this one is! He tells his remarkable story via thirteen chapters, chronologically tracing his journey through life and reflecting on the experiences which have shaped him. He begins with his early childhood, which he spent in the forests of Malaysia, ‘running around half-naked in the tropical sun with my younger brother, Christopher’ until, aged ten, he and his brother were returned to Britain to be ‘incarcerated in a miserable Scottish boarding school’. The reader then follows him as he recounts tales which show his progression from starting to climb as a student, to scaling London’s brick canal-side walls, to the North Face of the Eiger, to eventually climbing in the Himalaya and Karakoram; over the decades he has been on more than ninety expeditions and climbed on every continent. However, his accounts of his experiences don’t concentrate on the challenges or technical difficulties of these climbs (although some of the wonderful photographs show how challenging many were!) but instead are told through the experiences he shared with his climbing companions and his reflections on their behaviour … as well as his self-deprecating reflections on his own! This means that we learn just as much about the failures as the successes, about the tragedies and hardship and, most important of all, about the warmth of his feelings towards his fellow climbers, his respect for them and the value he placed on the friendships which were forged through their shared experiences. His accounts are full of humour, capturing the sense of fun – and of the ludicrous – all of which seem to encapsulate an essential part of the author’s approach to climbing mountains … and to life.
I appreciated his honesty about how frequently life has felt (and still feels!) confusing when, faced with having to make decisions, he’s found himself juggling with apparently contradictory ideas, beliefs and feelings. He addressed this in his prelude by quoting two different ‘creeds’:
‘Sybarite’s Creed: Never bivouac if you can camp. Never camp if there is a hut. Never sleep in a hut if you can use a hotel.’
‘Climber’s Creed: If you were not cold, you had too many clothes. If you were not hungry, you carried too much food. If you were not frightened, you had too much equipment. If you got up the climb well, it was too easy.’
His conclusion? He believes in both creeds ‘wholeheartedly and without reservation’, recognising that his ‘erratic path’ through life has been shaped and influenced by people rather than places … ‘it’s not the mountains that remain with me but the friendships.’
From the moment I started reading I felt I could hear his voice so vividly that it felt almost as though he was in the room with me, not only sharing his recollections but, as a result of his frequently rather philosophical reflections on his experiences, inviting me to ponder in a similar fashion! And, on a very personal level, I loved that his account of visiting the YHA shop (down a dingy alleyway just off London’s Strand) reawakened some wonderfully vivid memories of my first visit there (in late 1960s) to buy a tent, sleeping bag, walking boots, maps and a rucksack in preparation for a week of fell-walking in the Lake District!
I found this is a wonderfully entertaining, thought-provoking and, at its core, very intimate, memoir from a man who, even if he at times fears he’s losing his memory, has certainly not lost any of his zest for life. The publisher describes the book as ‘a testament to the value of friendship and the things that really matter in life: being in the right place at the right time with the right people, and making the most of the view’ and I think this is a major reason why its appeal will extend far beyond the world of the climbing fraternity. I recommend it without reservation.
With thanks to the publisher for providing a copy in exchange for an honest review. ( )