Do you love sublime alpine landscapes and tales of daring adventure? Then you will love This Mountain Life, a BC documentary about what it means to commit to experiencing the wildness of mountains.

The film began with the story of Todd, who survived burial in a severe avalanche and was probably dead for several minutes. From this nugget, the team of director Grant Baldwin and his producer/co-writer Jenny Rustemeyer, (who previously made The Clean Bin Project together), expanded their research, asking around about other mountain stories. They found Barry, who climbs ice waterfalls and is thrilled by the possibility for men to cooperate and be heroic, Bernhard, a mountain man and artist who has lived off the grid for fifty years and produces art there, and Simon, a snow artist (can’t he just enjoy a nice walk in the snow?). They then found Tania and Martina, a mother and daughter whose story might have been just one small piece of this film. Instead their ambitious attempted Coast Mountain traverse became the spine of the story, with the others as mini stories radiating out.

I question this editorial choice. No matter how charismatic and appealing the other characters are, this is Tania and Martina’s story. Tania escaped from Iron Curtain Czechoslovakia by walking through an icy river along a border crossing while pregnant and then hiking the mountains into Switzerland. She has clearly had an active life and, at sixty, is still stronger than most of us will ever be. She and her daughter spent over a year in preparation, and the 2300-km-trip from Squamish to Skagway, Alaska took almost six months. The logistics are fascinating, as are their motivations and the relationship. But there is SO much more to tell that was not included.

At the Q&A following the screening, the filmmakers themselves lamented that they could not tell so many interesting parts of the story and said that they are glad the women are working on a book. But Baldwin could have gotten way deeper into the story, even though that would have meant pivoting again from the initial plan. I was so surprised to hear that many of the most remarkable events that happened did not make the cut. They mentioned a huge fight between the mother and daughter, which was immediately followed by Martina being caught in an avalanche. They mentioned that due to weather conditions, they skipped certain sections which had become green valleys. In the film Tania says that she is so excited to start the trip, and that the daily planning (which has taken up more than a year) will end, so that her only job will be to walk. But during the discussion she admitted that she was completely wrong, and that every day was still consumed by logistics. The need to travel starting in frigid February is not explained, although I assume it has to do with the terrain being impassable without ice and snow. So there was much more to include besides the amazing landscape shots, which dominate the film.

However I still loved This Mountain Life, as did the enthusiastic audience.

Another memorable character in the film is a cross country skiing nun. The time she spends moving through landscape and nature is spiritual and contemplative, part of her religious practice. This made me wonder: is there something particularly special or contemplative about the mountain landscape as opposed to other aspects of nature? Is there a reason why the monastery should be placed in alpine majesty? Is it perhaps because extreme landscapes discourage settlement and people, and therefore the outside world is not there to provide distractions? Still, someone pays for contemplative and monastic lifestyles. Who pays for the nuns to live quietly and pray? Every time someone pursues their passion there is usually an invisible infrastructure funding it. Every time someone undertakes a daring mountain trip, it puts others at risk: their pilots, search and rescue teams, guides and sherpas in the Himalayas.

Baldwin expressed anger that Tania and Martina received so little sponsorship attention and support. This question of sponsorship is very interesting. On one hand, without it only the rich, with their luxury of time and money, can undertake grand journeys and gestures (for the most part). But should someone be paid for voluntary physical activity? How troubling is the element of self-indulgence in mountain treks? They are expensive and could be seen as a waste of resources. But some might argue that they are as critical to human expression as any artistic practice. Such feats are inspirational (and also sometimes aspirational.) Like art, they express complex human desires and encourage us to reach beyond our grasp.

I suspect that the reason these ladies did not find sponsors (at least before their project) is that their idea sounded crazy, and no one wants to be associated with a venture that fails or proves to be fatal. The extreme adventurers who do find financial support tend to do something understandable and relatively safe, like being good at hang gliding and looking cool while doing it. Or they do something clearly competitive which advances the notion of national pride, like cross country skiing in the Olympics. The real visionaries (like little-understood artists who perish unknown) have wild imaginations and do not attract the corporate sector.

Most of the mountain landscape we see is covered in snow. Is there something special about cold and ice, about whiteness and blankness that enhances our relationship to mountains? Do we like the austerity? Do we like that it is not teeming with life? It is important to remember that the mountains are full of life, even if they are associated with snow. Visually, I was most inspired by the sections in Bernhard’s isolated habitat, where he and his partner actually live and work all year. They are not just passing through and so they must be committed to the part of the majestic alpine landscape that is alive - growing food, being at peace with animals and contemplating how people are also part of the landscape.