Run to the mountain:
Shed those scales on
your eyes
That hinder you from
seeing God.
–Dante, Purgatorio, II, 7
We had the experience but missed the
meaning
–T.S. Eliot, Four
Quartets, (The Dry Salvages)
Today I climbed the highest mountain in
this region,which is not improperly called
Ventosum
(windy).
–Petrarch
From wrong to wrong
the exasperated spirit
Proceeds, unless
restored by that refining fire
Where you must move
in measure, like a dancer
–T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets, (Little Gidding)
Mountaineering has spawned a large, often
introspective, and occasionally inspirational literature.
–Sandy Briggs, Aware of the Mountain:, Mountaineering as Yoga
I
INTRODUCTION
The Ascent of Mount
Ventoux, by Petrarch (1304-1374), is a classic essay on the potential
meaning of hiking, scrambling and climbing on rock spires, boulder and cobble
studded traverses and white crowned peaks. The ascent and descent to such
places can offer spacious vistas at many levels and layers of meaning.
There are those, of course, who go to the ancient sentinels
and are only interested in the ages and types of rocks and various forms of
plant and animal life. Then, there are those who only see the saw edged
pinnacles as yet another challenge to conquer. Peak bagging and rock jocks are
aplenty, and many are the alpine magazines and organizations that deal with
technical ascents and more challenging routes up ice or rock faces. Such
experiences do offer a sort of meaning, but there is much the guardians of the
old ways can speak beyond these more literal and empirical levels.
It is quite common in the history of literature and religion
to see the mountains as places and sites of literary and spiritual meaning.
Moses turned to Sinai to receive the Decalogue, and the Sermon on the Mount by
Jesus was given on a flat rock rim high above the hurly burly of valley. The
Greek word for mountain is oros from
which we get the words oracle and oracular.
Many of the Jewish prophets turned to the mountains in times
of great conflict just as in the Greek and Indian traditions Olympus and Meru
were the shrouded peaks in which the gods dwelt and pondered their many deeds.
There is no doubt that in the Classical age the high rock
rims were places that were held in much reverence and awe.
II
DANTE AND PETRARCH
Dante (1265-1321) lived a few decades before Petrarch, and
he used the metaphor of the peaks to track and trace the ascent and descent of
the soul. There has been, of course, many a comparison/contrast between the way
Dante and Petrarch understood and interpreted the role of the mountains in the
spiritual and moral journey to meaning. Dante’s Divine Comedy is a poetic and theological reading of the ascent,
from the inferno, through purgatory, to paradise. The poetic epic and drama
ends at journey’s end. ‘The Ascent of Ventoux’, by Petrarch, is a real climb in
France up hard rock to the peak of Ventoux, and the descent again to the valley
of life’s daily demands and expectations. There are those who have suggested
that the Divine Comedy reflects the
Classical Medieval notion of the mystical ascent to God, whereas Petrarch’s
‘The Ascent of Mount Ventoux’ embodies the emerging Renaissance and Modern
notion of spirituality in which hikes to the peaks must always be balanced by a
return to the valley, and both peak and hike is done within time. There is no
doubt there are differences in the way that Dante and Petrarch understand the
role of hiking, mountains, peaks and the valley in their mystical theology.
There is a sense in which Petrarch’s portrayal of his ascent to Ventoux has a
rock hard earthiness about it that reminds the reader of Moses on Sinai and
Jesus on the Mount.
Petrarch, in some ways, takes us back to a view of nature
and history that is found in the Bible in a way that Dante does not.
The fact that there are distinct and not to be missed
differences between Dante and Petrarch has been noted by many a Late Medieval
scholar. Robert Lerner, in a fine article in Intellectuals and Writers in Fourteenth-Century Europe, pondered
such differences in ‘Petrarch’s Coolness toward Dante: A Conflict in Humanisms’
just as Albert Ascoli probed the unique contributions of Petrarch in
‘Petrarch’s Middle Ages: Memory, Imagination, History, and The Ascent of Mount
Ventoux’ It is interesting to note that Carol Kaske, in ‘Mount Sinai and
Dante’s Mount Purgatory’ suggests that Dante drew deeply from the mythic and
archetypal approach of Moses and the Sinai tradition, and yet, in many ways,
Moses-Mount Sinai and Petrarch-
Ventoux have much more historic and a rock hard empirical
passion for the real earth than does Dante’s more mythic map making of the
soul’s ascent to paradise. Moses and Petrarch merge mountain and soul in an important
time-eternal tension in a way that Dante does not. Dante tends to spiritualize
the rock slabs and knife white peaks in a way that Moses and Petrarch refuse to
do.
Achille Ratti (Pope Pius XI) was, as a young man, a keen and
ardent mountaineer and alpinist. He made many first ascents, and these were
recorded in Climbs on Alpine Peaks
(1923). Achille Ratti, in Climbs on
Alpine Peaks, describes in fine detail his ascent of Monte Rosa (Dufour
Peak), the first traverse of the Zumsteinjoch, the ascent of the Matterhorn and
the ascent of Mont Blanc and descent by the Dome Glacier. There is no doubt in Climb on Alpine Peaks that the earth
realism of Petrarch is more evident than the more poetic mysticism of Dante.
III
MOUNTAINEERING AND
THE HUMANITIES
It is significant to note that Thomas Merton’s first
autobiography, The Seven Storey Mountain,
drew deeply from the well of Dante’s thought, and Merton’s main biographer,
Michael Mott, entitled Merton’s biography, The
Seven Mountains of Thomas Merton. The earliest selection of Merton’s
journals was called, again drawing from Dante, Run to the Mountain: The Journals of Thomas Merton (1939-1941), and
the final selection of Merton’s journals was called, The Other Side of the Mountain: The Journals of Thomas Merton
(1967-1968). It took Merton many a decade, in many ways, to understand why
the more earthy mysticism of Petrarch might speak with greater integrity than
the more Neo-Platonic approach of Dante. Merton’s turn to the harder and more
demanding issues of justice and peace in the 1960s forced him to integrate
mysticism and justice within time and history rather than working from an
ascent to truth model in which time is left behind the closer the pilgrim
becomes to God.
Thomas Mann’s The
Magic Mountain, Hermann Hesse’s The
Glass Bead Game, Shelley’s Mount
Blanc, The Mountain of Silence: A
Search for Orthodox Spirituality, by Kyriacos Markides, and Simon
Iredale’s, The Interior Mountain:
Encountering God with the Desert Saints, from different perspectives, tell
their own convincing tales, of the power and beauty of mountains, to walk us to
deeper places on our journey through time. It is significant to note, for those
from the Christian Orthodox tradition, Mount Athos is a significant and
substantive sacred site, and it has been for centuries. And, then, there is the
classic of the ascent to insight and meaning, Mount Analogue: A Novel of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean
Adventures in Mountain Climbing, by Rene Daumal. There is no doubt, then,
that mountains play a significant role in the literal, literary and deeper
spiritual and contemplative landscape of the human body, soul and spirit.
The English High Romantics (Coleridge, Wordsworth, Southey)
often took to the hills in the Lake District to slake their thirst for deeper
meaning. Many was the ramble, scramble, tramp, yomp and fell walk on the lower
and higher peaks, and many the poem written from such a vista and rock perch.
Snowden in Wales, Skiddaw, Helvellyn and Scafell in the Lake District, the Hartz
Mountains/Brocken in Germany and Mount Etna in Sicily opened up the heart and
mind, imagination and poetic verse of the High Romantics. They saw much from
such lofty perches, and their poetry and prose often reflected the inspiration
of the muses of the rock rims. There is no missing the obstinate fact that the
English High Romantics were inspired and wrote with much wisdom and depth from
the high rock turrets. Even Hazlitt was taken by the importance of rambling on
the fells and hillocks. His essay, ‘On going a Journey’, speaks much about the
role and importance of both the inner and outer journey. It is from such High
Romantics that the needful and necessary turn to nature for insight and
inspiration began and was nurtured. They simple and striking verse written by
Coleridge, Wordsworth and Southey emerged from a close listening and
observation of the whispered language of nature, the lakes and mountains of the
Lake District. There is a real sense in which the High Romantics are the
rightful heirs and faithful children of Petrarch.
The North American Beat Tradition has often looked to the
mountains and ancient sentinels to speak to them. Gary Snyder’s Cold Mountain Poems did much to initiate
Snyder’s poetic career, and his recent book of poetry, Danger on Peaks, tells a graphic tale of Snyder’s attitudes towards
the high regions. Jack Kerouac has four books that dealt with his time as a
lookout on Desolation Peak in the North Cascades near the border of Canada (Dharma Bums, Desolation Angels, Lonesome
Traveler, Book of Blues). There is no
doubt that the poets of the High Cascade Peaks heard much from the rugged rock
rims. The superb book by John Suiter, Poets
on the Peaks: Gary Snyder, Philip Whalen & Jack Kerouac in the North
Caacades, tracks and traces the role the peaks and lookouts played in the
poetic lives of Snyder, Whalen and Kerouac. Those who follow in the footsteps,
path and trail of the American Beats such as Tim McNulty and Andrew Schelling
speak many a fine and evocative insight from the tales heard and learned long
days and nights under the blue canopy and star thick night in the Rock
ramparts.
McNulty’s In Blue
Mountain Dusk and Through High Still
Air draw the eager reader in the ancient yet simple wisdom of the peaks
just as Schelling’s Two Elk: A High
Country Notebook wins and woos the reader to the insight of the sentinels
and guardians of old.
The publication of Sacred
Mountains of the World (1997), by Edwin Bernbaum, in many ways, opened up a
more cosmopolitan understanding of the relationship between high reaching
peaks, religion and spirituality. Both the text and photos hold the reader
well, the tale is told in a most captivating manner, and the visual and written
page are as interdependent as the human journey and the white rock spires that
inspire such a pilgrimage. Sacred
Mountains of the World is divided into two sections: ‘Sacred Mountains
Around The World’ and ‘The Power and Mystery of Mountains’. Bernbaum, in this
classic and not to be missed tome on mountaineering and spirituality, brings
together many a mythic and symbolic way of knowing and being. This is what
mountains have and do evoke in the depths of the alert, eager and sensitive.
The Canadian Tradition of mountain poetry and prose ranges
from Earle Birney’s much acclaimed David,
Robin Mathews’ Climber to the
ever suggestive and engaging essays by Sid Marty in such classics as Men for the Mountains, Switchbacks: True
Stories from the Canadian Rockies and Leaning
on the Wind: Under the Spell of the Great Chinoook. Don Munday’s classic
book on Mount Waddington, The Unknown
Mountain,
was written in the finest prose and speaks volumes about a
way of seeing the mountains from a variety of appealing angles. Don/Phyllis
should be seen as pioneers of Canadian mountain life, and it is quite fitting
that Don was called the dean of Canadian mountaineering and Phyllis the grand
lady and matriarch. The Canadian mountain tradition has a worthy literary and
spiritual bent to it that needs to be noted. The Mountaineers: Famous Climbers in Canada (1979), Off The Beaten Track: Women Adventurers and
Mountaineers in Western Canada (1989) and The Canadian Mountaineering Anthology (1994) pull back the curtain
on the broad stage of the Canadian mountaineering tale and drama.
It is a rare day indeed, when scholar and mountaineer link
affectionate and kindly hands, but such a deed was accomplished and well
recounted in Nil Alienum: The Memoirs of
C.B. Sissons. Sissions, in his charming and well crafted autobiography,
tells many a fine tale of his climbing days (pictures aplenty) with his wife
and other hiking and climbing companions. Chapter 11 in Nil Alienum is called ‘Mountaineering’, and it is a read not to be
missed from within the Canadian context and tradition. Such a tradition has a
depth and breadth to it that both equals and in some way exceeds the English
High Romantic and American Beat traditions. The careful and thoughtful blend of
the spiritual and mountaineering is thoughtfully unpacked in Gil Parker’s Aware of the Mountain: Mountaineering as Yoga. Parker, like many of the American
Beats, tends to thread together Nature, Mountaineering and Eastern religions.
Petrarch cannot be missed in such a mountain heritage, line and lineage,
although his integrated vision would be a blend more of Nature, Mountaineering
and Classical and Christian thought.
IV
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT
VENTOUX
Petrarch’s, The Ascent
of Mount Ventoux, therefore, works from an older line and lineage, and
Petrarch was quite conscious of such a literary and spiritual heritage.
Needless to say, the Petrarchian tradition has done much to shape and form much
historic and contemporary interest in the role of mountaineering and the ever
perennial human quest for meaning and purpose. Petrarch’s important historic
essay on mountaineering is a must read, and it can be broken down into ten
distinct sections, and I will briefly touch on these in this brief essay.
First, it should be noted that Petrarch worked at the papal
court in Avignon in the 1330s before his climb up Ventoux in 1336. It is
significant to ponder the fact that after the ascent of Ventoux he left the
papal court and turned to his retreat home in Vaucluse in 1337. Ventoux is a
peak northeast of Avignon in the Provence area of France. Much must have been
simmering beneath the surface in Petrarch’s life for him to make this move from
a busy religious and civic life to a more contemplative commitment after the
Ventoux experience.
Second, ‘The Ascent of Mount Ventoux’ was written as a
letter to Petrarch’s mentor and confessor, Dionigi da Borga San Sepolcro, who
was an Augustinian friar. There is a sense in the Medieval tradition that the
greater pilgrimage through time is always done with and in the
presence of others. Such an ascent and descent is never done alone, and after
such a journey taken, the learned lessons and inner insights should be shared
with those wiser and further down the path.
Third, Petrarch does the historical approach. He had been
reading Livy’s History of Rome, and
in this history Philip of Macedon climbed a peak and made certain claims about
what he could see from such a place. Scholars of history could debate the
veracity of what Philip saw (and they did), but this is not the primary reason
Petrarch took to Mount Ventoux. The historical and scholarly debate might have
some significance, and many are the historian, geographer and geologist that do
the empirical and scientific deed, but Petrarch is asking more from the
mountains. The world of mountain facts, information and technical statistics do
need, in time, to give way to the soul of mountaineering, the more human,
humane and deeper reasons for taking to the peaks.
Fourth, Petrarch, in preparation for the ascent, ponders who
is best to take on such a journey. It is one thing to tolerate and live with
others in the hurly burly of valley life. It is quite another thing to discern
who to hike with to the peaks. A closer bonding is needed for the more
strenuous tasks in life. If trust and closeness, affinity and commitment are
not there, it is best not to bring the other along for the journey; much hurt
and harm can emerge from unwise invitations. Petrarch makes it clear that in
the act of doing something as difficult as climbing Mount Ventoux, he needs
someone he has a certain nearness and trust in. It is this discerning insight
of Petrarch that is most wise. There is nothing as sad, frustrating or tragic
as doing something hard and difficult and the hiking companion is always
wanting to quit or not strong enough for the journey. This testing of
friendship for the hard ascents is needful and necessary. Climbing means being
dependent on the other, hence it is vital that dependable companions are
carefully chosen for the more demanding hikes of life. Petrarch finally chose
his brother after pondering a variety of possibilities.
Fifth, the initial high spirited and romantic phase of the
ascent was done with much haste and in a hurry. Optimism ran high, and the trek
round and up Mount Ventoux was done with much hope and the longing to sit on
the high peak and see the compelling rock ridges in all directions. The
beginning of any adventure tends to be done with an abundant degree of hope and
confidence. Petrarch, his brother and the two servants took to the rocky
terrain well fed and keen to see what could be seen. The four ramblers met an
old shepherd who tried to dissuade them from taking to the rock rim of Mount
Ventoux, but such a negative and pessimistic attitude had little impact on
Petrarch, his brother and the sherpas. It did not take long, though, before the
actual demands and rigour of the mountain took its exacting toll. Weariness set
in, and the inevitable temptation to quit and turn back worked its way into the
depths. The decision to continue the ascent moved from a naïve optimism to a commitment
to face the ordeal and challenge of the mountain. Romanticism gave way to
realism, and depth of character was being tested. Being and non-Being, the
virtues and the vices began to square off.
Sixth, Petrarch had mentioned earlier in the missive a quote
from a classical poet: ‘remorseless labour conquers all’. Now the test had
come. The difference between Petrarch and his brother was becoming more clear
and obvious. Petrarch’s brother realized that if Mount Ventoux was going to be
ascended, it was essential that the hard work of going up, up and ever up was
paramount. Petrarch sought a gentle and roundabout way through the hollows, but
this kept him from gaining the height he needed. In fact, Petrarch wandered
about all over the mountain seeking the comfortable and easy way to the rock
rim. He realized, deep down, he was avoiding the hard work and inner fortitude
needed to face the challenge of the peak. Mount Vertoux was informing Petrarch
there were some hard lessons he had to learn about himself. Petrarch began to
ponder, at this stage, the spiritual significance of his lethargy. It is one
thing to long to climb the peaks and dwell in the high regions. It is quite
another thing to have the will to make such an ascent. Ovid assisted Petrarch
in his searching. ‘To wish is not enough: you must yearn with ardent eagerness
to gain your end’. It was becoming clear to Petrarch that Ventoux was calling
him to go deeper. Just as the literal mountain demands its due and yields its
bounty and beauty to those who work for it, so the inner hike from the vices to
the virtues, from lower to higher desires, from mediocrity to a full life means
much work and effort must be expended to reach the heights of the inner life.
The real difference between a spiritual voyeur and a saint is not in the
longing and wishing for the deeper and higher life. Both voyeur and saint can
agree on this. The real difference is between the hard transformative work done
by the saint and the unwillingness to grind ever on when the hike is truly hard
and demanding of the voyeur. Indeed, as Petrarch duly noted: ‘there is no way
to reach the heights by going downward’.
Seventh, after much remorseless labour and ardent eagerness
the effort paid off. The body could now rest from hard and demanding work. But,
as the body had a chance to slow down and find some place to ease aching
muscle, sinew and bone, the inner landscape, rolling hills, rock formations and
trails had to be trekked. Petrarch pondered his inner journey from a resting
place atop Ventoux. Misdeeds and misdemeanours, aspirations and longings could
be faced in a cleaner and clearer way from such heights. The outer journey now
became the inner journey. The outer ascent had been done. It was now time to do
the hard work of the inner ascent, the inward Ventoux. Petrarch from such
vistas pondered his journey and the complex nature of his many conflicting
desires and longings. He often did what was detrimental to his health and
healing, and the decisions that needed to be made for a full life, he often
avoided. Why, he pondered, was he unwilling to make the hard treks in the inner
life? Augustine became a new guide for Petrarch, and Petrarch had a solid
affinity with the many conflicts of the inner life that Augustine ever
struggled through in his honest and vulnerable journey. There was no flinching,
on the roof of Mount Ventoux, from the hard questions of life. The day did run
its circuit, and Petrarch realized only too well he had turned too far inward.
His inner eye bowed to the outer eyes, and the full expanse of the Alps from
Italy and Spain was basked in. The clouds below had shut out valley life for a
short season. ‘The sun was sinking and the shadows of the mountain were already
lengthening below, warning us that the time for us to go was near at hand’.
Eighth, Petrarch felt the tug and pull of it all. The outer
and inner journey needed to be integrated. He turned to Augustine again for
insight and wisdom. The Confessions
was pulled out from the knapsack, and much was neatly and clearly priorized by
the early lines of chapter 10 in the Confessions.
Petrarch read these lines to his brother, and all the dots were connected:
‘And men go about admiring the high mountains and the mighty waves of the sea
and the wide sweep of rivers and the sound of the ocean and the movement of the
stars, but they themselves they abandon’. Such a tale is easy to interpret and
decode. It is one thing to turn to the outer world for challenges and insight,
but if we abandon the deeper longings and desires, we can do ourselves great
hurt and harm. Nature can only take us so far on the trail. Petrarch, being the
good Renaissance, Humanist and Christian that he was, turned to deeper sources
(as fonts) for insight and wisdom.
The Classical Greek and Roman traditions, like Nature, had much truth to tell.
There was no denying this. General revelation and natural law have done much to
shape, inform and discipline the great and grand traditions of the past. But,
it was from the Bible as interpreted
by Augustine, Anthony and Athanasius that Petrarch took his lead and cue. It is
by the giving away of possessions and property to the needy and poor, and
living the simple life that a deeper joy will be experienced. Petrarch said: ‘I
thought in silence of the vanity in us mortals who neglect what is noblest in
ourselves in a vain show only because we look around ourselves for what can
only be found within us’. It is this original state within us (the image and
likeness to God) that is foundational to Petrarch’s insights. Those who neglect
and abandon such a hike doom themselves to perennial restlessness and a living
far from the inner inn of life and meaning. Indeed, our heats are ever restless
until we can find the deeper inner centre, core and place of rest.
Ninth, most of the descent of Mount Ventoux was done in
silence. Day star had slipped round the backside of the mountain, and the blue
canopy of the day gave way to the gray of dusk. The real meaning of the climb
was summed up well in the final few paragraphs of the essay: ‘How earnestly
should we strive to trample beneath our feet not mountaintops but the appetites
which spring from earthly impulses’. It is these deeper impulses that often
come to drive and dominate a person unless such a challenge is firmly faced.
This is the real hike to the eternal peak. This is the real challenge that a
simple climb of a literal peak often obscures from rock jocks and peak baggers.
The suggestive light of a full moon assisted the foursome the final few miles
of the descent, and a warm and inviting inn greeted the hungry and tired
travelers.
Tenth, Petrarch was keenly aware of the importance of
language and words. Mount Ventoux, in a literal sense, is a towering and rock
solid mountain and peak in Provence near Vaucluse (Petrarch’s retreat home).
But, within the single name are three names. The name can mean the wind (or
Spirit) that breaths and moves about the ancient rocks, and the highest peak
had been called ‘Filiolum’ and the ‘Pater’ or father of all peaks. Petrarch is
quick to alert the reader to the fact that when Ventoux is unpacked as a
metaphor of meaning, it points the way to the mysterious nature of the
Christian Trinity (3 persons-1 substance). Those who take the time to see and
read what the sentinels of old have to teach and say, might decode an eternal
language of meaning and insight. This is the direction that Petrarch seems to
be pointing.
The Ascent of Mount
Ventoux has a perennial ring to it. Petrarch realized, only too keenly and
well, that if the inner journey and inscape is ignored and abandoned, much
might be done in the world and on the peaks, in the valley and on glacier white
tips, but it all might just be a grand distraction. The hike to the peaks
within, and the sights seen from such places, is the real hike one and all must
take. There is the outer Ventoux and there is the inner
Ventoux, and Petrarch knew only too well which peak was the
harder and more demanding to climb. Such an outward-inward tension and dynamic
has been portrayed way in a book on Outward Bound: Outward Bound: The Inward Odyssey, in many ways, echoes the tale
Petrarch is telling in ‘The Ascent of Mount Ventoux’.
T.S. Eliot in the Four
Quartets (Burnt Norton) suggested that much of our life is one of being
‘distracted from distraction by distraction’. The Ascent of Mount Ventoux
offers us the opportunity to see through all the many distractions of life, and
know the differences between literal, literary and spiritual ascents and descents to the real and more
demanding peaks and valleys of life.
The Ascent of Mount
Ventoux begins with the fact that Ventoux comes from
Ventosum which means ’Windy’, and the essay is dated April. These two metaphors
and symbols should not be missed. How is the inner Ventoux to be climbed? Is it
all alone? The Classical Tradition has often seen the wind as the breath of the
Divine Spirit. It is as we are open to the breathing in and out of such a life
giving reality, the ascent of Ventoux can be made. April is the sign and symbol
of spring, new life and Easter in the Western calendar and culture. It is as we
allow the Divine Spirit (like the wind) to live in us, we will know and
experience the resurrected life that empowers us to face the harder challenges
of the inner Ventoux and ascend such a demanding peak in a meaningful manner.