Book Talk: Wild Himalaya by Stephen Alter

A book talk rather than a book review, this piece aims to discuss, instead of evaluate, Wild Himalaya by Stephen Alter, while also exploring my personal connections to it as a student of the mountains.

A sprawling and comprehensive journey through the hills, Wild Himalaya by Stephen Alter charts a lyrical path through the mountains, overgrown with wildflowers and accompanied by a chorus of songbirds in the trees. Alter undoubtedly leaves no stone unturned in his sojourn of the natural world, meandering between the peaks of India, Nepal, Bhutan, and Pakistan to investigate the truths of the Himalaya, shrouded as they are in the mist of lore. It was daunting to begin such an expansive and detailed account of this distinguished mountain range, standing at almost 400 pages and traversing through the centuries of myth, science, and exploration built into the peaks. My dense hardcover copy of the book had been sitting idly on my desk at school for weeks, until finally, as my return home to the coast approached, I saw no choice but to spend a weekend venturing into the history of these vast and illustrious mountains - a final act of gratitude to the region that had offered me so much.

In a narrative that intertwines the spiritual with the scientific in the hopes of truly understanding the wild, Alter deftly examines and ponders over the pursuit of knowledge in the Himalaya, which, as he points out, is most accurately transliterated from Sanskrit without the s. As I began to turn the pages of this book, I was struck by a sense of familiarity upon reading his words about Landour and the Tehri Hills. I felt innately tied to the terrain, and therefore to his writing, through my school in Garhwal that had made the mountains feel like home. When I closed my eyes, the “blue ridgelines” of the Himalaya stretched out before me, a recent memory accompanied by the lofty elegance of deodars and oaks.

Enriching my pre-existing experiences with the Himalaya, this chronicle of the mountains remained entrenched in the language and legends of local tribes, through a unified approach that recognizes how deeply “natural phenomena are imbued with mythical attributes by different faiths.” At the holy site of Muktinath, “one of the most sacred and remote destinations” in the Himalaya, a Buddhist temple sits nearby a Hindu shrine to Vishnu. As Hindu pilgrims wash in the Gandaki river to achieve salvation and Buddhist monks sit in meditation, the blurred lines between human belief are stunningly clear - in the Himalaya, it is always the “logic of faith” that prevails as we attempt to grasp the majesty of mountains that exist beyond the human scale. It is a feeling not unfamiliar to me during my wanderings out on hikes, when the differing words we use to describe faith blend into the idea of the spiritual. Religious synchronism triumphs in nature, as the borders between beliefs drawn by civilization fade in light of the wild, where the prayer is about the act, not the social strings attached.

Above: Buddhist and Hindu flags at the sacred Bhrigu lake in Kullu Valley, elevation 4,300 metres

Alter’s thorough and balanced perspective also presents the science of the Himalaya as an alternate, and often overlapping, lens to understanding the natural world, One notable mention is George Schaller, a naturalist “more comfortable in the company of other species,” featured in the chapter “A Feral Naturalist.” His writing, and Alter’s account of it, emphasises the necessity of firsthand observation of the wild in order to understand it. In Schaller’s words, “technology helps to open the world but technology can also close it unless one learns directly from nature,” conveying the significance of maintaining our direct connection to the wild if we are to learn from it. Scattered with the now extinct sea creatures and brimming with the life of today’s flora and fauna, the Himalaya undoubtedly offers countless opportunities for scientific study - if we are to respect the delicate balance of its ecosystems, not taking more than we are able to return in a misguided attempt of discovery. This is the “scientific inquiry [...] balanced by a spiritual search” that Schaller speaks of, one that I strive to implement during my time in the Himalaya. Mere proximity to the mountains is a powerful enough catalyst for environmentalism.

After closing the book, one cannot help but feel a profound sense of appreciation for the local ecology and the urge to preserve it, yet Wild Himalaya is not inherently a conservationist work. Rather, Alter’s love for the Himalaya escapes in his methodical and artful writing of it, and soon, the reader has no choice but to be drawn in as well. With his evocative words of the Jabarkhet Nature Reserve, Mussoorie, I found myself reminiscing of my walks and runs through the trails of JNR, the memories now rejuvenated with appreciation for the indigenous communities whose efforts, alongside “innovative and well managed scientific approaches to conservation”, rewilded the degrading forests. This is just one example of the ongoing shift in mindset regarding human engagement in the outdoors, which has directed my interactions with and learnings from the natural world. Historically, much of the narrative regarding alpinism has centred around overcoming the mountains - an attempt to tame them, to shape them for our purposes and aims. The view proposed in Wild Himalaya, on the other hand, is one of synergy, in which humanity returns to a mutualistic relationship with the environment. Instead of continuing to take from the land, in the ambitious manner that is almost human nature, Alter suggests that we simply appreciate, embracing the wild through actions suffused with science and spirituality.