THE MOTH AND THE MOUNTAIN

The tale of an eccentric plan to be the first known European to scale Mount Everest.

“The idea was mad any way you looked at it,” writes New Yorker contributor Caesar of the plan British adventurer Maurice Wilson (1898-1934) cooked up to fly to Nepal and crash-land his plane at the foot of Everest, then climb solo to the summit. Never mind that Wilson, a shellshocked veteran of World War I and survivor of the Spanish flu, had no experience flying or climbing. He overcame those shortcomings by walking the 200 miles from Bradford to London in hobnail boots several times and, yes, learning to fly. “Wilson was preparing himself purely to endure,” writes Caesar, “as if toughness were the only quality required in the Himalayas.” It was not, and while it’s probably a spoiler to note that his expedition was spectacularly unsuccessful, it was an example of derring-do in the service of personal redemption—perhaps. Wilson was clearly in need of healing: He abandoned wives at the drop of a hat, gave little attention to the ordinary business of making a living, and may have been a transvestite. “If Wilson was a transvestite,” writes the author in this loopy, sometimes labored narrative, “he knew how to source a wardrobe.” He was also undeniably brave. Caesar has an unfortunate habit of addressing himself in the second person as he recounts how he came to the long-forgotten (though documented) story: “You read the literature on Wilson. It’s nowhere near satisfactory. He is dismissed by generalists as a crank, and by alpine historians as a reckless amateur—a footnote in the history of mountaineering.” Still, he turns in a multifaceted tale full of learned speculation—at least one climber claims that Wilson made the summit—and intriguing minor mysteries. It’s not Into Thin Air, but Caesar’s story has plenty of virtues all the same.

A welcome addition to the library of oddball adventurers.