THE CLIMBER
TIM MACARTNEY-SNAPE, Issue 111, Autumn 2020
BY DAN SLATER
Given Tim Macartney-Snape’s reputation in the antipodean climbing community, it would be a criminal waste of valuable column inches for me to summarise his achievements here. However, just in case you’ve picked up this fine magazine in a dentist’s reception area while awaiting a painful procedure, or in a hut on the Milford track while on vacation from the northern hemisphere, I will attempt to do so to enhance your appreciation of the man’s career.
Born in Tanzania in 1956, Tim used to stare out of his Arusha schoolroom window at the cone of Mount Meru, looming to the north-west of the town, and dreaming of one day standing atop it. After his family returned to Australia when he was 12, he set about realising his mountaineering ambitions. Membership of the Australian National University (ANU) Mountaineering Club led to expeditions to Dunagiri, Ama Dablam and Annapurna II, culminating in a first Australian ascent of Mt Everest via a new route on the north face. Other first ascents followed and, in 1990, Tim completed the Sea to Summit expedition, travelling under his own steam from the Bay of Bengal to the summit of Everest, solo and without oxygen. Aside from mountaineering, Tim is best known for co-founding the outdoor gear brand Sea to Summit, named after that expedition, which has become a global leader in the industry.
I was fortunate enough to spend a couple of weeks with Tim recently in Uganda on a trip with Australian adventure travel company World Expeditions, for whom he infrequently leads treks. Our goal was Mt Stanley in the Rwenzori Mountains of Uganda, where most of our group of nine successfully summited Margherita Peak (5109m), a semi-technical climb involving the traverse of some of the last equatorial glaciers left on earth. Tim was initially reserved and serious, but after a few days the group dynamic gelled and he relaxed into a genial and knowledgeable trip leader, his drawn and craggy features quick to crease into a sly smile. Spirits were high the day after the summit, and I talked to Tim as we relaxed with a stream-chilled beer after a day of descending glorious, foliage-choked valleys through deep and incessant bog.
Dan: How have you enjoyed the Rwenzoris?
Tim: When you’ve dreamed about going to a place for a very long time, you have preconceptions, and the Rwenzoris actually completely exceeded my preconceptions. I knew it was going to be muddy so that wasn’t a revelation, but the topography was incredible, the scenery amazing and the plant life stunning. But actually what’s made this trip really special is the local people we’ve had with us. They’ve all been very, very friendly and helpful.
How much climbing do you do nowadays? Do you think you’ve slowed down with age?
Not really. I climb whenever I can. Living close to Sydney, there are good opportunities so I try to go every weekend if I can find someone to climb with. I’m fussy. I tend to climb more with younger people nowadays, people who are younger than me anyway.
I still do a bit of mountaineering. High altitude climbing has been great, but years ago I realised that it was pretty hazardous. Every time you did something, you’d get back and people would say, ‘What’s next?’ And you’d think of something harder and more out there. It’s like a train line; I know a lot of people who got on it and some inevitably came to an untimely end because of it. It’s also not good for your brain. Go above 7000m—and I bet studies in the future will prove this—and you do long-term damage to your brain. You notice it. The first thing that shuts down is your brain. You start not being able to think straight. You can’t hold a train of thought. You may have noticed that I can’t (laughs). Meeting people like Reinhold Messner, you think, yes, there’s a bit of a vagueness there.
So I came up with this brilliant idea of doing exploratory treks, which allowed me to do adventurous stuff like small, unclimbed peaks and take others with me, and this has been a ploy for maintaining the fix.
Do you still have any major climbing ambitions?
I love the act of climbing a nice line, but my ambitions in terms of altitude have come down. I’ve realised that at altitude you spend a lot of time doing little climbing, and so it’s more productive to go to lower peaks. You don’t spend as much time acclimatising and you get more climbing done, so it’s more enjoyable and just as spectacular. A 6000m peak can often be as spectacular as an 8000m peak. A trip to Changabang is being organised by the New Zealand Alpine Team in May and I’ll decide closer to the time whether to go or not. The reason I’m undecided is because, in July, I’m doing an exploratory trek in the Karakorum for World Expeditions. I want to go up behind the Trango Glacier, to the north of the Latok and Trango groups. It’s 24 days including climbing a 6000m peak.
How often do you go on these exploratory treks for World Expeditions?
Mostly I do one to two trips a year, but sometimes none; it varies a lot. It’s mostly exploratories that I do, which means I make up an itinerary to a place I’m fascinated to visit, and I love taking people off the beaten track. I’ve been leading trips for World Expeditions for 40 years, actually. I first had contact with them when I went to a slideshow given by the founders Goronwy Price and Christine Gee, back in 1978. I’d just got back from my first Himalayan expedition, sponsored by the Sydney Morning Herald, on which I was the only member of the team to reach the summit. That gave me a bit of notoriety, I suppose, and on the strength of that they asked me to lead a trek for them, and I thought that was a wonderful opportunity to get back to a part of the world I’d become fascinated with.
I don’t lead for other companies apart from World Expeditions, but I do some ski touring for a mate of mine who operates a business in Hokkaido. I get to take really good skiers. I have got a knack for exploring new places, whether it be walking, climbing or skiing.
How involved are you in the climbing community nowadays?
In Australia, I’m a member of the Sydney Rock Climbing Club. I think one should give back to the community so I became a member to promote climbing and make sure climbers are more accepted by the rest of the community. We have a big problem here with access. In Victoria, the National Park Service has taken on that climbers are persona non grata and do a lot of damage, which is not true. They’re using climbers as a scapegoat. It is true that unmanaged climbers who are less educated in the principles of Leave No Trace have created a bit of an impact, but nowhere near as much as walkers or 4WD drivers. They’ve banned 90 per cent of the really good climbing in the Grampians, yet at the same time they’re building this trail right across the range, a major infrastructure project with a lot of earthworks, bridges, and balustrades, so complaining about climbers who have placed a few bolts, almost invisible, and saying climbers have disrespected cultural heritage is totally untrue. Chalk is a bit of problem, but it’s manageable. All around the world, climbers face these problems and access is maintained by good dialogue between land managers and users, but in Victoria it’s not happening that well and I think New South Wales may go the same way.
I was made a life member of the ANU Mountaineering Club, but I don’t really have that much to do with them except going to occasional events.
You’re a big ambassador for responsible travel and Leave No Trace, aren’t you?
Leave No Trace (LNT) was founded in the US with a scientific level of logic to try to manage the impact of people in the wilderness, and they came up with this good, simple system of minimising it. Every child should be taught it. I talked Sea To Summit into supporting LNT in Australia, and they still do. No one likes doing an outdoor activity and seeing that it’s been impacted negatively by people, or animals for that matter, for example the horses in the Snowy Mountains. You’re not going to stop people enjoying the outdoors. In fact, I think it’d be a disaster if you did, so it’s a question of managing the numbers. I believe people generally litter and light fires in ignorance, and if they realised the consequences, they’d stop doing it. Some people probably wouldn’t, but the majority would if they were educated in the principles of LNT. I try and mention it whenever and push it on social media. Mostly I’ve been trying to get the government land management agencies to take it on their interpretation signs everywhere. It’s a slow process, though.
Your first mountaineering experiences were in the Southern Alps. What are your fondest memories of those times and how do you think the conditions prepared you for the Himalaya?
I walked out to the Olivine Ice Plateau a couple of times, on the second occasion staying there for a few days in a snow cave and doing some small climbs. On the way out, one of our party became seriously ill at Arawhata flats and two of us did an emergency dash in torrential rain out over Arawhata saddle to Aspiring Hut to summon an airlift. It was fun to travel fast over rough terrain and flooding rivers and wild weather. Then, before going to Dunagiri in 1978, Lincoln Hall and I spent a few days traversing Nazomi and the south ridge of Aoraki / Mt Cook. A northwesterly storm held us up for two nights in a snow cave—it was a good experience to feel at home on a long route, no matter what happened with the weather. Apart from that, I’ve hardly climbed anything in New Zealand. I got sidetracked by the Himalaya, but I look forward to discovering the alpine rock in Fiordland more.
Aren’t you a member of the New Zealand Alpine Team?
Yes, they’re a group of enthusiasts who have a mixed ice and climbing festival in Queenstown. They run courses and have good climbers running it. They invited me a few years ago and I joined the team and they appointed me a mentor. While they have many very experienced climbers, they don’t have many who have much experience at altitude, so I complement that part.
The Ice and Mixed Festival is brilliant—what I like most about it is the sharing of skills and experience. Newcomers as well as those who have a good, general grounding in mountaineering can learn and put into practice the latest techniques, and get inspired about what is possible. I’ve been three times to the festival, but rather selfishly have only conducted one advanced snowcraft course, though I have taken quite a few beginners under my wing. It’s certainly been a shot in the arm for a somewhat staid antipodean mountaineering scene.
Do you keep track of the next generation of Australian climbers and what they’re up to? Are there any that you see pushing the envelope?
Yes, I like keeping track. Climbing is enjoying an increase in popularity, partly due to gym climbing becoming more popular. I’d say there are quite a few world-class, up-and-coming climbers. If I start naming people, the problem is I’ll forget someone, but there’s Angie Scarth-Johnson—she was a child prodigy—and a few others of her age. Lee and Ben Cossey have been top level climbers for over a decade. Tom O’Halloran is probably going to the Olympics, etc.
You seem very fit for your age? Do you have a fitness routine?
I’m fit but I don’t think I’m unusual; there are many people my age who are as fit or fitter. I had a bad fall 30 years ago, as a result of which I’ve got an arthritic hip, so about ten years ago I stopped running and took up mountain biking. I built some trails around home and it’s a good excuse to take my dog for a run. I try to go to the climbing gym a couple of times a week, then out on the weekend. I have a routine to keep my shoulders fit—20 minutes every day.
What about diet?
I’m fussy. I’m lucky as I have a very good connection between what I find tastes good and what is good for me. I’m mostly vegetarian.
Could you still run a marathon?
I could but I find running a bit boring. I’ve never liked races.
Perhaps your best known achievement is the Sea to Summit expedition of 1990, on which you climbed Mt Everest from sea level. No one has since repeated that feat—why is that?
Because it’s hard! Göran Kropp did something probably more difficult because he rode his bike all the way from Sweden. Several people are trying the Seven Summits right from the sea, but I’m not really following their progress.
You mentioned the other day that you’ve never been interested in winter ascents and polar expeditions. Why not?
I can understand going mixed climbing in winter. That’s fun in a perverse way, but I don’t understand the attraction of doing a winter ascent of a big peak. That just seems like an exercise in masochism, as does doing a polar traverse. It’s not as if the challenge is in finding your way up a technical route or enjoying the view, because it’s the same, every day. I get the isolation, I get the challenge, but there are far more interesting things to do in life than go to the most barren place on earth and whip your body to extremes. Here, for example, you could do some incredible, untracked traverse through the Rwenzoris, and every minute would be fascinating because there are plants, birds and animals, whereas there it’s just sterile. Ice and air.
The Sea to Summit expedition also spawned your very successful gear company. How long were you with the Sea To Summit brand (STS)?
We started it in ‘91 and I sold my shares in 2017. I was one of the directors and my basic function was marketing. I also had a role in product development and company direction, but my desire was never to be full-time, because although I like having a role in making management decisions, I’m allergic to being in offices. The implementation of those decisions is not my forté. My philosophy has always been to employ people who are better at that stuff than I am.
Why did you leave?
There was a change of direction in the business which resulted in a difference of opinion, so I felt it was time to move on.
For instance, I thought there was a great opportunity to have a Sea To Summit scholarship, where we sponsored someone, maybe from Uganda or Nepal, who was interested in outdoor activities, to get an education in tourism or product development. I’d also have put more resources into responsible tourism, Leave No Trace for example, but that was a dent in the profit margin. The problem with that line of thinking is that—and I knew this all along—enough is never enough. You set a goal to get your business to a certain level, but when you reach that level, there’s still the same need to grow. It’s never enough. It’s like the bigger boat syndrome. You get a fancy big boat, ‘Wow, this is fantastic, I’ve made it.’ Then two minutes later it’s: ‘Oh, they’ve got a bigger boat. Let’s sell a few more dry sacks.’ It’s insatiable, and life is short. I’d much rather be out here now than in an office working towards a bigger boat.
Any major things you would have changed in Sea To Summit history?
I think we did pretty well. There’s no doubt that well-designed packaging with good information on it was a key to our success, but I think we used too much of it. Even back ten years ago, we were using 30 tonnes of polypropylene per year. That’s a lot of plastic. It’s probably three or four times that now. It’s too much.
Does it still give you a thrill to see the Sea To Summit name everywhere?
Yeah, I guess you could say that. It was a great thing that we started. We saw a gap in the market for accessories, which no-one took seriously. Companies made accessories to use up all the off-cuts and things like that, but it’s the accessories, things like dry sacks, the compact towel, the pocket shower, all little things that cumulatively make your life in the outdoors a lot more comfortable without burdening you with weight. The ambition was to start off with accessories and down the track make more major products, and our first foray into that was sleeping bags, then sleeping mats, then lightweight shelters. I think they were a fantastic achievement. Our design philosophy was to never make a ‘me too’ product, but to start from scratch, even making dry sacks. You’ve got to have something that’s actually innovative. Don’t just copy others.
Are you proud of your business success or do you look back and only see mistakes?
I’m proud of it. I did have a business that was unsuccessful for a long time though. It was with a university skiing friend. We started an adventure travel company that actually World Expeditions ended up buying—Wilderness Expeditions. We used to run ski touring trips in the Snowy Mountains, and rafting. It’s a hard business to be in, and in the end I gave up after about four or five years.
Do you have any other business interests?
There’s one still under development. The business is called Wejugo. It’s an app, but the hope is that it will be a platform for outdoor users to plan trips. It has all the information to make planning a trip with others much easier. You build a profile to log your trip details and photos and all that, and share them with the group. Also, part of the app is a big safety factor and an environmental responsibility factor. All the information on how to behave appropriately, all your medical details are there, accessible by emergency services in the event of a rescue. And also it will have the ability to log your visitation to an area, so it’ll be of interest to land use managers. There’ll be beacons at trail heads where the app will log on automatically, so park users will know who’s gone where, and they can use that information to plan for the future. On the commercial side, it could be used by gear companies to see what gear people are using and, for instance, promote recommended products on the gear list.
Interesting. When do you expect that to be ready?
Well, maybe next year? (laughs)
You’re also part of the World Transformation Movement. Could you summarise that in a sentence?
Well, we’re actually in the process of—and this may sound like a big call—saving humanity. I firmly believe that if there is to be a future for human beings, they have to understand what being human means, how consciousness originated and how that resulted in becoming a victim of the human condition, which is a conflict between instinct and intellect. It’s a realisation that fundamentally we are good, but every human born becomes insecure immediately because we don’t find the love our instincts expect... cue 10 minutes of explanation (for more information, visit www.humancondition.com).
Can you see yourself retiring from business altogether in the future?
Look, I understand someone who’s got a desk job or a farm, or whatever, I can understand retirement from that perspective, but I think I’m fortunate that... retirement? What am I retiring from? I don’t want to retire from what I do because I’ll just do it anyway, as long as my body keeps functioning, and if it stops functioning, I’ll just tone it down a bit. Well, I’ll have no option, will I?