Memory of a Journey. Rock Climbing on Ben Lomond
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Format	Book  (Australian)	Category	Guides (Australian)
Title	Memory of a Journey. Rock Climbing on Ben Lomond	Pages	304
Author	Robert McMahon and Gerry Narcowicz	RRP	$44.95 AUD
Publisher	Climb Tasmania Inc. and Oriel	Reviews	1
Edition	1st	Ave Rating	(4.50 of 5)

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ithomas 10/23/2009

Memory of a Journey. Rock Climbing on Ben Lomond. by Robert McMahon and Gerry Narkowicz. Indigo blue waters and coral atolls. The front cover makes me think of the tropics and the sea. Until, that is, I look at the rear cover and see a discordant photograph of someone in the most preposterous position imaginable. While most tourists in Tasmania would be scoffing scones and tea in a naff bakery and while most Tasmanians would be downing a pie in-between constructing miles of perfectly stacked firewood, this person is climbing a rock. Not just a rock, but a vertical crack in a rock. A line. Cutting through thin air, clouds, fog, silhouettes and shadows. Ben Lomond. Is there a more atmospheric, exciting series of cliffs in Australia? There are taller cliffs and harder cliffs and cliffs with more roofs and more sunshine but are there cliffs that actually make you feel like an explorer from another century. Sure there are. Most of them are in Tasmania and most of them require epic approaches. On Ben Lomond though, the adventuring is accessible. Accessibility has a price and the price in this part of northern Tasmania is easy access to commercially valuable forests. This is a part of state where clear-felled forest coupes impinge directly upon the natural values of a National Park. Out of those groaning forests stands Ben Lomond. Not isolated, but rooted in the forest. The Ben. For years the province of one person''''s dreams, ambitions and fears. Robert McMahon has been climbing here for longer than most climbers have been alive. He knows it like the back of his hand and it shows. This book is both a labour of love and an exorcism. Love Child and Voodoo Chile were the best of friends. There are two standout parts to this book. I say book rather than guide because while the first half is a climbing guide, the second half is a series of reminiscences, musings and biographical details. The title gives the hint. It’s not just about the rock climbs of Ben Lomond, it’s about Rock Climbing on Ben Lomond. It is this duality that makes people either love or hate the book. That’s what dualities tend to do. It’s almost certainly part of what McMahon had in mind. He is a big picture man in a small island. He realized, early in his climbing life that climbing consists of more than doing a series of gymnastic moves. It is a journey with many detours, stops, incidents and memories. One of those stops was Gerry Narkowicz. Presumably Gerry contributed to the production of the book. His name is on the front cover so he must have. He certainly contributed to the climbing but somehow his voice is lost in the powerful blast that is McMahon’s memory. While the book is full of Robert, I couldn’t find any Gerry. Then again, maybe the climbs are all that really matters. So here is a guide to climbing on the Ben Lomond plateau in northeastern Tasmania. The authors have a history of producing high quality guides to very small cliffs. This is different. The cliffs are, in some cases, very tall indeed and even the shortest seem more serious than identical clifflets at sea-level. The mountain is complex and varied. The book copes with complexity with clear directions and outstanding photographs. The section dealing with the rock-climbs is, in my opinion, the best Australian guide, full stop. The authors have done an excellent job. The typeface, the layout; all of those orderly things have been well thought out; except for the pagination which is slightly annoying. Why do pages with black and white photographs have numbers while pages with coloured photographs do not? Still, the book feels and looks good. Of course it’s easy to reference and describe most of climbs because most of the cliffs are split by innumerable vertical cracks. McMahon is a legendary climber of new routes and prodigious note-taker and in so doing he has referenced his life to this piece of dolerite. His journals record his lifelong journey on rock, or at least those parts of his life that he wants to record! From those written memories he has developed detailed descriptions for each climb. For the most part you can rely on the written word. For the most part. Some details need attention and here I can only comment on the climbs and experiences I have had on the mountain. For example, the beautiful Conchubar was first climbed by Robert McMahon, Peter Mills, Ben Maddison and I on the 23/1/79. What is not clear is how the first ascent attribution is devised. My recollection is that first ascent citations have the leader of the crux pitch as the first named climber. It was Peter Mills who first led the crux of Conchubar, not R. McMahon. Some guides may insert the climber of the first pitch as first named, but that system seems quite unfair. Years ago, in Queensland, we used to roll around laughing, imagining Chris Baxter leading innumerable five metre high grade 10 first pitches before allowing more skilful climbers to lead through and complete the grade 20 cruxes. (Piss in Pocket. (20) Ist ascent. C. Baxter and unknown). It was all so unfair to Chris, but the question still remains. How reliable are guides in terms of attributions. This one is probably quite accurate because McMahon has led a great proportion of all the pitches ever climbed on the mount. And that is a great achievement. However, when I look at Conchubar, Rajah, The Company You Keep and Cuchulain, climbs on which I played some part, the attributions don’t make sense. People other than those first mentioned led the crux pitches. How many other misleading memories exist on the pages? Who knows? It’s not a big thing but egos and history demand some compensation. I would guess that heights, protection, escape routes, descent gullies and all of the other information needed by visitors is quite reliable. One possible problem is that the book doesn’t fit in a pocket. Tough luck. I have already explained that this is a book, which contains a guide not a guidebook. The photographs of the cliffs are impressive. Actually, impressive doesn’t do justice to what is actually a photographic guide within a guide within a book. That photograph of Gerry Narkowicz on Howitzer! Gerry again, but this time on Ruwenzori. The lovely double page spread of Gerry, Robert, Simon and John. The photograph of wacky Robin Thompson, wonderful Susie McMahon and a slightly confused Damian Jones. The 1974 photograph of Frew and Joyce (Note: Is this a mistake? This must surely have been taken in 1948, somewhere in the Lake District)! The unbelievably atmospheric shots of Pavement Bluff and Africa. God they are wonderful. If I had a say in the curation of this body of work I would try to arrange a gallery exhibition. The angles, the towers, the shadows; they are all so impressive. The second half of the book is a series of essays. If the first half is a list of accomplishments then this is the journey. It’s full of characters, tragedies, laughs and insights. Everything is remembered or filtered through Robert McMahon. However, I would love to know what Frew really thought? What went on in the dark places of Ben Maddison’s mind? Why is Mick Ling such a nice person? Or is he? Is John Fantani a member of the same species? Few alternatives exist, and it might not really matter because by the time you read this review you will already have been brutalized into believing that nothing happens on this piece of real estate with the permission of R. McMahon. Other memories don’t exist in this landscape unless they have been filtered through McMahon’s perceptions. This isn’t a criticism. He has climbed most of the climbs and he has faithfully recorded all that has happened over decades, so he has to be congratulated not demonized. Nevertheless, I wish there were a couple of short essays by