The Measure of a Mountain: Beauty and Terror on Mount Rainier

by Bruce Barcott

Overview

“With distinctive wit and uncommon intelligence,” a Seattle writer offers a “provocative, highly original” profile of Mount Rainier—capturing the majestic beauty and deadly allure of one of the largest active volcanoes in the U.S. (Jon Krakauer, author of Into Thin Air)
 
Mount Rainier is one of the largest and most dangerous volcanoes in the country, both an awesome natural monument and a formidable presence of peril. In The Measure of a Mountain, Seattle writer Bruce Barcott sets out to grasp the spirit of Rainier through an exploratory, meandering, and deeply personal journey along its massive flanks. From forest to precipice, thinning air to fractured glaciers, he explores not only the physique of Rainier but the psychology and meaning of all mountains—and the deep connection that exists between humans and landscape.
 
What he finds is a complex of moss-bearded hemlocks and old-growth firs, high meadows that blossom according to a precise natural timeclock, sheets of crumbling pumice, fractured glaciers, and unsteady magma. Rainier’s snow fields bristle with bug life, and its marmots chew rocks to keep their teeth from overgrowing. The mountain rumbles with seismic twitches and jerks, seeing one-hundred-thirty earthquakes annually . . . Rainier is an obsession, a temple that attracts its own passionate acolytes—from scientists and priests to rangers, and mountain guides—as well as a monument to death. Referred to by locals as simply “the mountain,” it is the single largest feature of the Pacific Northwest landscape—provided it isn’t hidden in clouds. Visible or not, though, Rainer’s presence is undeniable.

Filled with adventure, poignant personal reflections, and fascinating mountain lore told by Indian chiefs, professional guides, priests, and scientists, The Measure of a Mountain is one man’s stirring quest to reconcile with a dazzling creation of nature, at once alluring and sometimes deadly.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781570615214
Publisher:	Blue Star Press
Publication date:	04/10/2007
Pages:	288
Sales rank:	652,312
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.60(d)

About the Author

Bruce Barcott contributes major articles on environmental and adventure topics to Outside magazine. He is a former staff writer at the Seattle Weekly and has contributed to The New York Times Magazine, Men’s Journal, Harper’s, and Slate, among other publications. He has written a number of books, including The Measure of a Mountain: Beauty and Terror on Mount Rainier (1997) and The Last Flight of the Scarlet Macaw: One Woman's Fight to Save the World's Most Beautiful Bird (2008).

Editorial Reviews

"With distinctive wit and uncommon intelligence, Bruce Barcott has penned a . . . provocative, highly original appreciation of a great mountain. He is a hell of a writer." –Jon Krakauer, author of Into Thin Air "Utterly absorbing . . . A marvelous bio

From the Publisher

High above the domiciles and roadways of Seattle looms Mt. Rainier, a beautiful but forbidding shape that dominates the landscape and draws people of the region to discuss, view, climb and possibly to die in their attempts to understand and tame the volcano. A mixture of first-person narrative and natural history, this book from Seattle Weekly columnist Barcott chronicles the past, present and possible future encounters with this impressive monolith of the Northwest. Barcott is not a cavalier outdoorsman. He describes his attempts to understand the ecology and history of Mt. Rainier with a genuine fear of the harshness and severity of high-altitude climbing, and with wonder at the ecosystems he finds above. A chapter called "Aerial Plankton" details the activities of winter insects living on the snowy slopes of the mountain. "Volcano" describes a scenario in which the mountain does not erupt but collapses, sending millions of cubic meters of mud, water and ice into the surrounding populated areas. Many of these musings take place on the trail, and we share in Barcott's deep happiness and gratitude for a warm shower and dry bed after days on the mountainside. Providing clear information on the heritage, history and fascination this mountain creates, Barcott captures the glowing spirit that surrounds Mt. Rainier and, at times, those who are drawn to it.

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

A Seattle journalist sets out to write a natural history of Mt. Rainier in Washington State but finds that it is a truth universally acknowledged that a man interested in mountains must want to climb to the top. While researching the mountain, Barcott happened to interview Scott Fischer, a climbing guide who shortly afterward perished in a sensationalized accident on Mt. Everest (see Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air, LJ 4/1/97). Trying to make sense of Fischer's death turns the story from a standard natural history into a distinctly anti-macho example of mountaineering literature, as a bookish, gregarious man without any natural daredevil impulses contemplates climbing (or possibly not climbing) the 14,410'. peak. A darkly humorous review of mountaineering memoirs notes that "once an author is on the mountain, there's no limit to what he'll suffer for his reader," but that "unlike any other sport, mountaineering demands that its players die." Although the anecdotes about Mt. Rainier will be of regional interest, this appealing adventure story about a reluctant adventurer will please many readers.Amy Brunvand, Univ. of Utah Lib., Salt Lake City

Library Journal

A marvelous biography of Mt. Rainier—public symbol, sacred icon, towering Seattle presence, even when lost behind a vaporous haze—from Barcott, a staff writer for the Seattle Weekly and contributor to Harper's.

At 14,410 feet, Rainier is the highest and most dangerous volcano in the US, its summit area mimicking frigid Himalayan weather conditions. Like many Seattlites, Barcott is caught in Rainier's clutches. He circumambulates it, nibbling at the flanks; ascends through alpine meadows, from one opaque cloud bank to the next, as if "approaching the gates of heaven." He gets down on his knees to scrutinize the snow flea and consider the harvestermen (a.k.a. daddy longlegs) that, astonishingly, live at 10,000 feet; takes to the mountain at night under a candent moon, the glaciers luminous. He listens to the radical silence, bathes in the spectacular eight-week run of wildflowers: avalanche lily, paintbrush, yellowdot saxifrage, salal (which, Barcott tells us, the poet Richard Hugo said was one of the few words he loved enough to own). At full spate, Barcott writes with elegance, both thoughtful and waggish, and he has a way of making the most mundane matters—seismological readouts, say, or the marmot's daily routine—utterly absorbing. There are moments when you will guffaw out loud; at other times you will gasp or spill a tear over stories of those who have died on the mountain. Last comes the author's summit push with his father, a hellacious experience, Barcott's "legs trembling like sinners before God": perhaps a test of courage, a bow to curiosity, but also "the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"We want to know mountains. . . . but they've got no story . . . We throw ourselves onto them and make the stories happen." Barcott knows his mountain, and his story is enthralling, respectful, bitingly witty, and wise.

Kirkus Reviews