The biggest problem I had with Dan Szczesny’s book, The White Mountain: Rediscovering Mount Washington’s Hidden Culture, is that it introduced me to so many cool people, I could hardly get through a page before I had to google someone or buy their book. After it led me to buy my second book—a collection from Thomas Starr King called The White Hills, I had to force myself to stop taking notes and just read.
Well, read, and settle for dog-earing the pages I wanted to reference later. As I write this, I’m already thinking about researching a painting Szczesny mentioned, by Winslow Homer, called The Bridle Path, White Mountains. I knew about Winslow, but never knew that he painted a scene taken straight out of the mountains I love so much. Throughout Szczesny’s book, I learned of all sorts of people and their works—artists, inventors, writers, explorers—that I never heard of before, and it gave me a whole new appreciation for the landscape of New Hampshire’s tallest mountains. It also made me want to take up painting.
It’s the People
The focus of the book is, of course, on one mountain in particular: Mount Washington. And what Szczesny does so effectively is make you appreciate all the ways people come to enjoy the mountain, showing why every approach is valid. As hikers going up Mount Washington, we may scorn the tourists vying for time at the summit sign even though they never climbed the mountain themselves, but Szczesny reminds us that for some, climbing the mountain isn’t something they are capable of. That unless they could drive there, they would never get to witness its remarkable view. They would never get to feel a part of the landscape. Washington’s summit accessibility by car, rail, or foot lends itself to a collective appreciation of the mountains that bind us together.
Sometimes hiking, like life, can feel like a completely solitary experience. That when we are on a path, we are the only ones going that way, and so our situation is unique and separate from others. The White Mountain shows that while our perspective might be unique, our experience and our love are shared. That whether you are climbing the mountain or peacefully painting it from a spot in the valley below, connecting with the rugged landscape of Mount Washington can take many forms, all of which provide meaning.
More Perspective
Having climbed Mount Washington before and being dismayed at the number of visitors splattered across its summit when I arrived, I was hoping this book would make me want to reach for my hiking boots and head straight to Mount Washington with a newfound appreciation for its beauty. This was not the case. The idea of standing in line at the summit with the hordes, waiting to get a soda, still has no appeal. But I do feel now that I’ll have more acceptance of the touristy aspect of it. That rather than hoping to avoid the masses the next climb up, I’ll be able to respect others’ desires to be a part of something special. Something beautiful and majestic. It’s the natural quest of the human spirit, regardless of the means we envision taking to get there.
But be careful if you read this book. If you’re anything like me, you might find yourself filling up your Amazon cart with new books, searching the internet for artists’ prints you can buy, and add a whole host of other places to go exploring. The book focuses on Mount Washington, sure, and the people that have built a life around it, but it also tells you about where those people came from, showing how one mountain can connect a broader world. Now I’ve got a whole new set of towns, waterfalls, and mountains to visit. And paintings to paint. Thanks Dan. Thanks a lot.
