Posted on: Monday, April 25, 2005

ABOUT MEN

By Michael Tsai
Advertiser Staff Writer

There's nothing quite like three showerless weeks on a glacier to affirm a guy's sense of guyness.

Excluding a near-fatal allergic reaction (to a peach!), an abortive case of altitude sickness and an insult-to-injury bout of food poisoning, my latest stab at expeditionary trekking was a stirring (and reeking) success, a testosterone-happy reminder of the joys of reductionism.

Men. Mountain. Good times.

The collective goal of our little group of amateur alpinists was to make it to the 23,000-foot summit of Aconcagua in Argentina. Six of our baker's dozen succeeded, but all of us shared in a shaggy camaraderie fostered through long hikes, freezing nights and endless potty jokes.

Whether we were waxing political about status of the Chilean muleteer, singing along to Irish pub songs at base camp or gasping like fish in the stingy, arid air of the high camps, we did so with the satisfaction that we were far, far removed from the soul-killing influence of office cubicles, cell phones and Paris Hilton news flashes.

While climbing mountains is hardly an exclusively male pursuit, there is something about wearing the same salt-dusty clothes day after day, tromping through mule piles, chugging silty stream water, and peeing in a bottle in a dark tent in the middle of a snow storm that speaks to masculine ideals of self-sufficiency and independence.

Granted, this supposed dialogue is pretty illusory. However rugged our little adventure may have been — and for a slouching keyboard jockey like me, it was plenty — the experience was significantly mediated by experienced guides, well-worn trails and 60-pound packs full of pricey gear.

But, hey, let's not let reality get in the way of our grunts and chest-thumping.

Adventure tourism exists because expeditionary trekking alpinism and the like resonate metaphorically with our Western-male notions of conquest. Tour companies, outfitters, adventure travel writers focus on superlatives at the expense of context, defining each challenge by its "-est" capital.

You don't just take a weekender up Mauna Loa, you summit "the world's most massive mountain." Kilimanjaro and Elbrus aren't just arduous but doable slogs up a couple of tall mountains, they're treks to "the tallest summits of Africa and Europe."

Which is not to say that guys are into this stuff for the bragging rights. Most are ardent nature lovers who also embrace personal challenge, guys who'd sooner spend an afternoon struggling up a mountain of ice-covered scree than ride a cart around a golf course.

The most committed outdoorsmen find ways to stay on their mountains. The rest of us sooner or later have to come back down, shave off the beard and get on with the grind.

Talk about touching the void.

Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@honoluluadveriser.com or 535-2461.