Mountains have always been a part of my life, whether seen from afar across Southern Alberta’s plains or nestled up close in the Kootenays. They are imposing, solid ranges that have strong names to suit them: the Rockies, Selkirks, Skimmerhorns, Purcells.
Mountains also hold some mystery. I’ve always wondered what sits at the top of their peaks, how the wind would blow there, what the storms would sound like. Could there be a grizzly eating salmon berries in that dense copse of trees on that outcropping there? What about a wolf pack, or a herd of elk?
These impressive ranges influence not just our surroundings, but our art, music, writing, and lives. We strive to climb to their very peaks, to see the world from the summit of these rocky giants. About 800 people climb Mount Everest each year. Why? To check that box off their bucket lists, to feel humbled by the Nepal mountain, to simply appreciate being alive.
We climb mountains to seek answers, both internal and external. We photograph and paint mountains to showcase their strength and solidness. We sing about the mystery and mistiness of their peaks to appreciate their true beauty. The mountain is a symbol of Canada’s western provinces, sitting in environments as diverse as coasts, tundra, and near-deserts.
I photograph mountains because I’m comforted by their realness, their simple strength and solitude. They frame the world I live in, bundling forest and field and humanity and animalia all together. They are the true guardians of this planet.
Mountains also are a product of the enormous geological forces that are continually operating under our feet. The mountain ranges that extend down the western edge of North and South America are evidence of “continental drift”, which is pushing the continents westward at the rate of approximately a centimetre/year. The westward motion of the continents compresses and pushes the Earth’s crust upward to form the mountains. This force indicates we are on a “living” planet where the biosphere of life itself interacts with the inorganic surroundings to form a synergetic and self-regulating, complex system that helps maintain and perpetuate the conditions the conditions of life on the planet. This is known as the “Gaia principle” (Lovelock and Margulis 1970). It appears Ingenious peoples have instinctively known this for centuries by practicing a respect for all forms of life and the planet. Modern day science, that has relied on reducing systems into small components, is now starting to recognize the complexity of these systems and the need to expand our understanding through “systems thinking”. We have much to learn from our Indigenous neighbors!
Perhaps the urge to climb to the top of these monuments is an instinctual drive to expand our view of this complexity. Apollo 8 astronauts (1968) had a cognitive shift in awareness when they first saw Earth from their space capsule. They had a sense of understanding the “big picture”, “and of feeling connected yet bigger than the intricate processes bubbling on Earth” (Calderone 2019). Instead of spending thousands of dollars and energy climbing Mount Everest, I am following the astronauts projectory by gaining a new appreciation of this complexity from a height of 420 km above the Earth (International Space Station’s live feed https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86YLFOog4GM)!
I appreciate your vast geological knowledge! And finally had a chance to check out the space feed :)