Photo: Paul Pritchard
Unless you approached
this book thinking it was an anthropological study, examining the
belief systems and symbols of the indigenous peoples of the Americas,
or perhaps more appropriately, a rock climber who nevertheless has
spent the last 20 years in a coma after being hit on the head by a
television sized rock, then you must be aware of Paul Pritchard's
Totem Pole saga. And indeed it is a saga, which 20 years on still has
the power to shock and awe. As survival stories go, the story of
Paul's accident, heroic rescue and rehabilitation, stands up with
some of the gnarliest tales of triumph over tragedy within the
climbing/mountaineering genre. Except this time, the hero doesn't get
the girl and ride off into the sunset, fully restored and imbued
with sage-like wisdom. Our protagonist loses the girl- girlfriend and
heroic rescuer Celia Bull- ends up a smashed up hemiplegic and sees
the whole focus of his life, cruelly torn away forever. An experience
which left him facing nebulous demons in the guise of anger, despair
and confusion. An unholy trilogy of emotions which in those first
months after the accident had left him broken, both mentally and
physically.
Paul's road to recovery
came about by getting the whole experience down in words. A project
which manifested itself in the original book which went on to take
the Boardman Tasker prize in 1999.. Now, twenty years later, Paul has
re-released The Totem Pole after a successful crowd funding campaign
which uses his original work as the foundation but as Paul explains
in the introduction...”restored my authentic voice which had
previously been edited out'.
If anything, The Totem
Pole is a story of redemption. Not achieved through overcoming
disability and routing those dark demons buried away in the darkest
recesses of the soul, but through a gradual philosophical acceptance
that things will never be the same again...just different. As
intimated above, one of Paul's first steps in his rehabilitation is
to write down his thoughts and describe his experiences honestly and
graphically. Despite struggling in those early months to articulate
these thoughts and put them within a coherent structure, through a
grim determination to paint the picture as accurately and honestly as
he can, he perseveres . Despite the picture he is trying to paint
being more Jackson Pollack than the Pre Raphaelite Brotherhood in
those confused early stages when his pummelled brain struggled to
make sense of events. Locked in an endless, frustrating ritual of
therapy and treatment, he finds solace and satisfaction through
working these thoughts out and getting them down. As much to work out
the chain of events which had led him to this point and attempt to
make sense of the chaos. I'm imagine that when he started setting
down these thoughts, the last thing in his confused and groggy mind
was 'this will make a great book...Banff here we come!'.
The bulk of what
evolved into The Totem Pole appears to have been written in
Clatterbridge Hospital on the Wirral, about 60 miles from Paul's
then North Wales home in the Welsh climbing capital of Llanberis.
Sharing a ward with what sounds like the cast from One Flew Over the
Cuckoo's Nest- a cast which the author is never less than sympathetic
and kindly disposed towards in most cases- he nevertheless took
pleasure in shaping the book in what quiet spaces and moments he can
find. I cannot imagine what is must have been like for a climber who
was used to freedom, travel and wide open spaces to find themselves
imprisoned, amongst strangers. I guess that writing, apart from its
therapeutic value, would also be an escape from reality. A pretty
grim reality at that but isn't the best art hewn from darkness and
struggle?
I'd forgotten that Paul
had undergone a similar experience here in north Wales when he took a
huge ripper at Gogarth and ended up amongst the Irish Sea washed
rocks at the foot of the Zawn. That time, despite being smashed up
and subject to a lengthy rescue, the injuries sustained were not life
changing. Students of Oscar Wilde at this point might proffer the
suggestion that to suffer one such accident might be considered
unfortunate, to suffer two such accidents looks like carelessness!
But then again, why would a climber who has survived a serious
accident not carry on? Perhaps a feeling of immortality might kick in
after coming through such an experience? Although some climbers do
indeed pack it in and take up something safe like fell running or
hillwalking after a brush with death, in Paul's case, as a high end
activist of international repute, giving up would never have been an
option after an accident. Especially one which you fully recover
from. The mental turmoil that an individual experiences after being
involved in a serious accident will vary of course from person to
person and their investment in the activity.
Fortunately, I have
never suffered a serious accident whilst climbing myself. I have
however experienced the horror which comes when witnessing a jagged
rock freewheeling through the air with flesh and blood within it's
terrible orbit. Although not in the same league as that experienced
by Celia Bull as she watched 'that' block bulls eye on Paul's bare
bonce in Tasmania, I recall a late friend trying to re-direct a
sizeable flake of rock he had pulled on, away from me on Craig Dinas
in North Wales as I looked on helplessly. Being lashed onto 'The
Boulder' and unable to move more than a foot or so either way, I
watched transfixed as the flake spun towards me. Growing in size with
each nanosecond until it exploded just inches to the side of me. Even
worse was when I trundled a huge fang of rock on a ground up first
ascent in Nantlle, which twisted 90 degrees from its intended
destination, and just missed my then 14 year old son who was belaying
at the foot of the rib we were climbing. Its terrible trajectory so
close that he felt the rush of air through his hair. The thought of
what might have been still gives me nightmares! These accidents are
freaks of nature which often defy all attempts to minimise risk and
climb safely. Wrong place, wrong time and even the best mountaineer
in the world can be swept away in a moment.
In some ways, being
injured when climbing through a fall or bad technique can be accepted
as it's just part of the game. Being struck by a rock on the other
hand, is like being stabbed in the back rather than thrust in the
chest by a rapier in a fencing duel. It seems as if fate is not
playing fair! The tendency to curse your bad luck and succumb to
despair, a debilitating and possibly inescapable condition which may
become a prison cell from which there is no escape. The message which
Paul, conveys through the Totem Pole challenges this fatalistic mind
set. The goal which can be applied to most people who suffer mental,
physical or emotional life changing turmoil, to find a way through
the maze. Despite the endless dead ends and U turns which bring one
back time and again to where you have started your journey. Through
perseverance and with more than a little help from your friends, you
can find a way through the towering box hedges and reach, if not the
point from which you set out, an escape back into the light.
Paul and a handful of Totem Poles: Photo Eli Pritchard
When the Totem Pole
first came out two decades ago, it took that years' Boardman Tasker
award. A double header for the author after the success of Deep Play.
To write a book of any description after having your skull stove in
and your brain ruptured and plastered to your scalp, is just about
beyond imagination. However, to write an honest account of such a
traumatic, life changing event with such clarity, without any self
pity or rancour and imbued throughout with that quiet northern self
deprecating humour -which friends will describe as the essential
essence of the man- is quite inspirational.
John Appleby: 2018
