Breaking Trail : A Climbing Life

A legendary trailblazer, Arlene Blum defied the climbing establishment of the 1970s by leading the first all-female teams on successful ascents of Mount McKinley and Annapurna and by being the first American woman to attempt Mount Everest. At the same time, her groundbreaking scientific work challenged gender stereotypes in the academic community and led to important legislation banning carcinogens in childrens sleepwear. With candor and humor, Breaking Trail recounts Blums journey from an overprotected childhood in Chicago to the tops of some of the highest peaks on earth, and to a life lived on her own terms. Now with an index, additional photos, and a new afterword, this book is a moving testament to the power of taking risks and pursuing dreams.

ARLENE BLUM has a doctorate in biophysical chemistry and has taught at Stanford, Wellesley College, and the University of California, Berkeley. Her bestselling book Annapurna: A Woman’s Place was named one of the one hundred best adventure books of all time by National Geographic. She lives in Berkeley, California.

CHAPTER 1 Under the Porch Davenport, Iowa, August 1949The sun blazes relentlessly on me, so I grab my doll and climb into a cool, dark space under the back porch. I prop my doll up for a tea party. Between us I spread a lace handkerchief and lay out the blue glass doll dishes Mommy gave me for my fourth birthday. My aunts Ruth and Shirley are sitting on the porch above and their muffled words drift down. Lulled by the warm day, the drone of my aunts voices, and the sweet smell of the rosebushes that surround our house, I begin to doze.I hear my name, startle awake, and listen.With parents like that.I strain to hear their words. Theres something about my father, Germany . . . And then:Arlene . . . that child will amount to no good . . .Tears begin to blur my eyes. I curl up on the ground, hug my knees, and shake with silent sobs. I hate my aunts words. I hate my aunt. I hate myself. But she is wrong. Ill show her. Ill show them all. A Slide down Mt. Adams1964CAN YOU KEEP GOING? John handed me his water bottle.Ill try, I gasped, taking a sip. We continued upward in the dark, my loud breathing synchronized with the rhythmic tap of our ice axes on the rocky ground, the snow, the ice.It was September 1964 and we were climbing Mt. Adams, a stately 12,276-foot volcano in southern Washington near Portland, Oregon, where I was a junior at Reed College. After class the previous day, my handsome chemistry lab partner, John Hall, had asked if I would like to join him and four other guys in an attempt on Adams. The previous spring, John had taken me on my first backpack trip. Ever since I had been eager to climb a mountain and spend more time with charismatic John, so I happily accepted his invitation.We had begun our ascent at one in the morning so we could climb the hard snow slopes above timberline before the sun softened their surface. When I first put on my daypack and headed up, I began panting so loudly that John later confessed he had wondered if I would make it out of the parking lot. And now here I was, an out-of-shape nineteen-year-old girl from the flatlands wearing borrowed boots and pack, trudging up a mountain in the middle of the night.At dawn, we stopped to get ready to go up the glacier. John helped me strap a pair of cramponsthe metal spikes that keep a climber from slipping on iceonto my boots. He showed me how to tie myself into the braided nylon climbing rope, explaining that it would catch me if I fell into a crevasse. I didnt know what a crevasse was, but John was so confident I didnt worry. John tied himself to the front of our rope, I attached myself to the center, and Mike took the end. Fred, Ron, and George tied themselves to the other rope. I liked the secure feeling of this umbilical cord connecting me to these strong, attractive guys.We began moving up again as the first shafts of light hit the glacier and the hard white snow glittered as though sprinkled with tiny mirrors. Ahead of us was an icefield sliced by

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Excerpted from Breaking Trail: A Climbing Life by Arlene Blum
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