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by Cherie Bremer-Kamp

Subcategory: Different
Author: Cherie Bremer-Kamp
ISBN: 0333430557
ISBN13: 978-0333430552
Publisher: Macmillan; 1st Ed. edition (1987)
Fb2 eBook: 1289 kb
ePub eBook: 1752 kb
Digital formats: lit lrf rtf doc

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Find living on the edge from a vast selection of Books. Living On The Edge by Cherie Bremer Kamp (Hardcover, 1987) Kanchenjunga. Living on the Ragged Edge Swindoll, Charles R. Paperback.

Title: Living on the Edge Item Condition: used item in a good condition. Published On: 1987-03-01 SKU: 8765-9780715390030. Books will be free of page markings. Will be clean, not soiled or stained. Read full description. Living on the Edge: Winter Ascent on Kanchenjunga by Cherie Bremer-Kamp (Paperback, 1987). Pre-owned: lowest price.

On the southern edge of America a diverse group of people lead ordinary lives in rather extraordinary circumstances. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. To get the free app, enter your mobile phone number.

The author, Cherie Bremer-Kamp, and her lover, Chris Chandler, a medical doctor, together with the assistance . I am sorry that this book is out of print. I read it shortly before embarking on my own, extremely modest Himalayan climbing career, and it was a powerful warning.

The author, Cherie Bremer-Kamp, and her lover, Chris Chandler, a medical doctor, together with the assistance of an inexperienced Sherpa guide, attempted in the dead of winter to climb the north face of Kanchenjunga, which, at 28,168 feet, is the third highest peak in the Himalayas.

From Cherie Bell's Store. in. Friends of ArtStation.

Heading further south, to the very edge of the continent, isolated country hugs the wild and lovely coast of the Southern Ocean. Bookending the Fitz, the townships of Bremer Bay and Hopetoun provide fishing shacks and chalets, caravan parks and campsites, B&Bs and motels. At Two Peoples Bay Nature Reserve, talcum beaches and turquoise water provide a scenic backdrop to hillside gullies and heathland. These small, welcoming, waterfront communities give a different insight into life on the edge.

Comments to eBook Living on the edge
For anyone who enjoys mountaineering stories, this is one of the better ones. Well written and engaging, the author did an admirable job of weaving her personal entanglements into the professional expectations of a major Himalayan climb. Although I could read hundreds of books about it, I will probably never fully understand what drives climbers, especially those who undertake such a dangerous expedition as this one where they attempted to summit an 8000+ meter peak virtually alone with no oxygen and the bare minimum logistical support. At times, when reading about the incredible hardships they encountered in their ascent, it almost requires a suspension of disbelief. The extreme weather conditions and temperatures cold enough to break steel crampons are just almost impossible to imagine. I also found it difficult to read of the verbal and physical abuse - such as throwing an ice axe at her because she was moving too slowly - that the author seemed to accept from her partner as a fact of life with him. Overall though, a riveting account and with the added perspective of the intimate personal relationship of the two climbers, more than the usual Himalayan adventure story.
The author, Cherie Bremer-Kamp, and her lover, Chris Chandler, a medical doctor, together with the assistance of an inexperienced Sherpa guide, attempted in the dead of winter to climb the north face of Kanchenjunga, which, at 28,168 feet, is the third highest peak in the Himalayas.

That these two, Cherie and Chris, shared a deep bond is undeniable, despite allusions to some kind of abusive behavior underlying their relationship. She and Chris met during the 1978 American ascent of K2, while she was married to another climber on that expedition. Their palpable attraction to each other was not lost on other members of that expedition, which caused a huge rift. This issue is recounted at length in Rick Ridgeway's engrossing chronicle of that expedition, "The Last Step". It was after that expedition that Cherie left her husband for Chris, her new found soul mate.

Here, Cherie, obviously embittered by Ridgeway's account, counters with her own reminiscences of that expedition, describing the philosophical divide that had developed, an everyman for himself philosophy versus that of the brotherhood of the rope, in which one climber places his or her life in the hands of another. Cherie, as well as Chris, philosophically subscribed to the latter. It was this belief that made them foreswear large expeditions for the close communion available to those climbing in lightweight Alpine style.

Before telling of their 1985 winter climb of Kanchenjunga, the author describes a few of their other adventures, making it clear that living on the edge was a way of life for them. She and Chris were passionately devoted to each other. It was a passion that arose deep within them, cemented by their mutual love for the mountains and for adventure, a lifestyle that demanded a symbiotic relationship. It was a demand that they had no trouble meeting.

Cherie's account of their journey to Kanchenjunga is highly descriptive and quite engrossing. Her love of people and places is evident in the way she writes about the journey. It is always a very personal account, filled with feeling. One can almost taste the anticipation with which she and Chris looked forward to their climb. Yet, while Cherie and Chris were experienced climbers and appeared to have made adequate preparations, it seemed that the forces of nature were conspiring against them.

The rigors of the actual climb were grueling, as they were met head on with jet stream force winds, which, when coupled with excruciatingly piercing cold, meant that they were exposed to an environment completely hostile to most living creatures. The forces of nature with which they collided, as they ascended Kanchenjunga, were literally enough to take one's breath away. It was so cold that the tensile steel posts on their crampons were breaking off. Yet, they persevered and continued climbing, driven on by their own inner resources, with tragic consequences.

In climbing Kanchenjunga, no two could have been better prepared, each having had prior Himalayan climbing experience. Moreover, with Chris being a medical doctor and Cherie being a nurse, it can be said that they were probably better prepared than most to recognize or address any medical emergencies while on the mountain. Yet, all their combined experience and knowledge was, ultimately, insufficient to forestall the death of Chris on that most cruel of mountains. With his death, Kanchenjunga had ultimately defeated them.

This poignantly told tale is one that will enthrall all climbing enthusiasts, as well as those readers who simply love a well told story. The many color pictures that accompany the text are beautiful and, in and of themselves, serve to explain the draw that such mountains may have for some.
I enjoyed Cherie's account of their harrowing climb. For those who like climbing and those of us who wish we could, it's a very exciting good read.
Through the years of amassing a mountaineering library of some fair extent - and then engaging in the study of its many volumes - I can say I have developed a deep interest in - even affection for - the men and women who seek their glad tidings in high places. I honor their courage, their commitment, their knowledge, their love of nature (most of them), and their literary talent in reducing great adventure to a lap-sized book which can convey the thrill, danger, and satisfaction which may flow from even expeditions that did not gain a summit. We are privileged to join the undertaking large or small, an extra person roped up as the ascent proceeds.

Many of these books are quite personal in nature, and their authors allow us to discover who these climbers are, what motivates them, and how did their particular "work" progress. But then there is always the danger the reader may not enjoy what he learns as the pages are turned, and such is my plain experience of LIVING ON THE EDGE. Contrary to the swooning reports of other reviewers (I confess their gloss was surprising), I have little positive to say about Cherie Bremer-Kamp, even in sympathy with the loss of her husband Chris Chandler on Kangchenjunga. (I prefer to spell the first syllable naming the third highest mountain in the world with that "g", as was used by the earlier writers.) Our author, in my opinion, is thoroughly unlikeable. As became my habit, I jot down reviews of a work in its front pieces, and will tell you there exists in my copy of this one a thick black interlineation beneath "thoroughly unlikeable". I wanted to be sure my opinion was clear. "To speak ill of the dead", my critique continued, "so was her husband".

So we are off with characters who anger, annoy, frustrate, and unnerve us. I conceded, however, that Bremer-Kamp had things to tell us, but got herself hopelessly entangled with what she saw as a World's Greatest Love Affair. No, not for the world, Madame writer, and not great, not loving, and barely an affair between two infidels. (As reported in another book Amazon sells, Miss Author-Would Be Climber and Mr. Chandler-Dream Boat carried on repeated physical tumbling in the very presence of her then-husband Another Climber.) It is a sign of a peculiar immaturity to lack perspective concerning one's relationships, and our author is juvenile to an uncommon degree.

This is the first WOMEN WHO LOVE TOO MUCH climber's book, and I pray it is the last. Bremer-Kemp has such contempt for herself she tolerated untold abuse; then, when Chandler "made up", she was "joyful". Pathetic! She even plants a picture of her beautiful paramour opposite the book's title page; that photo, however, was of Chandler's younger days and not as he appeared during the ill-fated attempt to climb Kangchenjunga. Apparently his appearance then - as he really was and not as he appeared in Bremer-Kemps fantasy -- would not sufficiently appeal to our sympathy and sense of irony, and not give our love-smitten author enough points for snagging a hunk.

To me it is astonishing this woman knew so little about her own vulnerability and risk, a risk at least as great as the mountain's thundering, oft-repeated avalanches. Her acceptance of blame, so typical of the unaware battered woman, is set forth plainly when Bremer-Kamp asserts "If only I could have shown how much more I loved him . . . been more accepting of his total being", which she conveniently forgets included verbal abuse, punishing physical blows, terror-by-ice-axe, and several crevasses full of humiliation.

The girl is not only ignorant about life and relationships, but she is without a clue about many fundamentals concerning climbing. There are too many to mention. Yet Chandler was to rely on her for "support on the mountain." Appalling! The third highest and one of the most deadly peaks in the world is not a place for the uninformed to be hanging about, especially in winter, when the increase in difficulty is different not only in degree but also in kind.

This author and the overly ambitious Doctor husband Chandler had no business on those fierce slopes, especially Bremer-Kamp, far too weak and inexperienced. At one point she seems overcome with a possible pelvic infection, just the most recent of a slew of crippling health concerns, and my marginal note urged: "Oh! For the love of God - Go home!" (That was on page 129 where there was still opportunity for those two to seek safety by abandoning their wild idea.) Staying on, her partner in life and on the rope may still have survived in the company of competent climbers, but the only available "aid" beyond the useless-and-worse Bremer-Kamp was the unskilled neophyte "Mongol", along because of some "rule" imagined by Bremer-Kamp. Ill-considered, haphazardly thought out "philosophy" is a woeful substitute for strength and knowledge and previous climbs on that and other great mountains. Such was the case with our author's "thinking". I would hate to have been Chandler's friend or family. He was not a good man - from the telling, but deserved someone other than this nincompoop on his rope.

When inevitably Chandler succumbed, the author, his wife, bent over to kiss the man's lips, which she found "were strangely lifeless", which seems to me an odd thing to say about a dead man's features. What did she expect from a corpse? A hot pucker? Next, she "pressed my body against Chris's to feel his warmth and love," apparently unaware that dead people turn cold quickly when at altitude and encompassed by bitter cold. And it seems to me we are getting perilously close to necrophilia here. How does all this strike our author? In a style more fitting for today, it's all about her. She writes of her "abandonment and loss". I'm pretty sure that when somebody dies it is that person who is lost from his world and without life. Here we have a brief but revealing passage of narcissistic self-involvement, words in these circumstances one could hope never to read. Nor these: "I wanted to place pictures of my children on his body to help him on his journey". Tickets, please? Bremer-Kemp could not have had a thought in her head when she then mused: "I felt reassured Chris kept photos of his own kids tucked safely next to his heart." Oh, thank God for that.

This horror of a book gets really intolerable from Chapter 8 on (page 136+). The entire production is barely redeemed by some superior photographs. The author is unbearable; the story is a mess. Wait `til you read her ending. (I'll give you just a glimpse of her post-mortem: When rays of sun broke through a cloud, Bremer-Kemp said they were "creating a shaft of light which fell on my chest - a passage way was formed leading to infinity." This idea of a pathway to an eternity was not only crazed, but also incorrectly punctuated.

If this were not part of my library - and I would at least defer to Chandler and his success in America's bi-centennial Everest climb (although one should question just what the hell does climbing the world's highest have to do with 1776?) - if this were not part of my library, I would burn it. After the book's title, I added a few words of my own so that the disaster read, viz., LIVING ON THE EDGE OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS AND EXTREME INEPTNESS, ESPECIALLY ABOVE 19,000 FEET! (The altitude marking the beginning of the attempted climb here memorialized.)

Perhaps the publishers were aware of the travesty they were bringing to print. They mislead us by adding a sub-title (only on the book's jacket, however) which refers to the "Winter Ascent" of the mountain. My comment? "Not close." This attempt got nowhere near the summit and was one of the poorest efforts on any peak since one Maurice Wilson, unable to carry out his scheme of crash-landing an airplane on the slopes of Mount Everest to get a physical head start up the mountain, plowed on without any prior experience, supplies, or support other than his positive attitude -- only to achieve what any would expect: death below the North Col. The publishing license was matched by the author's, who must have had some insight -- even if after the fact -- of her rationalizations and passive aggressiveness. In any case, such liberties were offset, I think, by the thoughtful inclusion of several blank pages at the book's end, convenient for us to note our complete disgust. "Pitiful!" I exclaimed. "The worst in the literature. And, sad to say, argument against (some) women on the mountain."

Argument enough, one would hope, to steer the cognitive reader away from this true-non-romance-in-the-snow blather and worse. Many of the volumes in my mountaineering library were purchased right here at Amazon, in excellent condition at very fair prices (and frequently, the ONLY place I could locate such books). Buy them, please, and let the spot on your shelf selected for this regrettable volume be filled with one of the great classics in the literature. There are enough to line your route to the summit of your favorite mountain.
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