Southern Alps by Alison Ballance Random House $89.99
KEY POINTS:
We might not consider the humble lichen on its rock the most glamorous or dynamic entity on the planet, but the species conquered Mt Cook long before human climbers made it to the summit.
Nor do we often think of the mighty mountain range from a lichen's point of view. This exploration of the Alps by Otago natural history film-maker Alison Ballance delights in taking unusual perspectives on the great barrier of rocks and ice that divides the South Island. Hers is a history told through human experience and, in a well-executed blend of fact and imagination, through animal, mineral and vegetable "eyes" as well.
Southern Alps is a hefty volume, a weighty match to the mass of the mountains. She tells the story of the Alps in minute detail: through the stories of a single grain of sand, a snowflake, tiny scale insect and single snow tussock plant.
In this way, she covers the geographical creation of the mountains, the cycle of uplift and erosion and the varying environments of beech forest and tussock land. It's a highly effective and vibrant way to deal with what could be dry, scientific material and of capturing that mountain ambience of awe at the grandeur that dwindles us all into insignificance.
The book is the equivalent of a fantastically well guided walk through the forest and valleys up to the peaks.
The natural history is interspersed with the history of human exploration from Maori myths of the Alps' creation, to naming the peaks, conquering the summits and finding passes.
There is even a chapter on shelter, including mountain huts and climbers' clothing.
Most importantly, it's a celebration of the mountains' beauty. It features a rich array of breath-taking shots from some of the country's top landscape photographers, including the renowned Arno Gasteiger, and is further enhanced by Jo Ogier's delicate botanical sketches.
The archival photographs are entertaining and instructive: those early climbers are as impressive for their style as for their daring, with the men in ties at 6977ft (2126m) and the Victorian lady climber waltzing up the glacier complete with reticule.
Trevor Newman's elegant and airy design, with a mountain colour scheme of glacial blues and greys, makes this book a real showpiece. The only frustrations are that its all-encompassing scope glosses over some areas, and, an annoying oversight, it lacks a map. At times the emphasis is a little odd: the kea gets its own chapter, while some fascinating humans, such as pioneering explorer and environmentalist Charlie Douglas, make only tantalisingly brief appearances.
The book's size and stunning looks probably make it more of a coffee-table tome to dip into rather than something to curl up with in bed. But it's well worth the weight-lifting involved in reading cover to cover. Its tales of the Alps and their astonishing features - their steep rise from the sea, bizarre touches of the tropics, unique mountain parrots, braided rivers and plunging glacier lines - will more than fill you in on what makes our southern mountain range a great divide like no other.
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