Remembering Jack Clarke
On Christmas Day 1894 three young men made the first ascent of Aoraki/Mt Cook – Tom Fyfe, George Graham and Jack Clarke, a plumber, a carpenter and a handyman. They had forestalled moneyed English climber Edward Fitzgerald with his Swiss guide Mattias Zurbriggen, and their achievement helped underpin the tradition that mountaineering in New Zealand could be enjoyed by anyone who had the skills, and was not just a recreation for gentlemen.
Jack Clarke was only 19 when he first climbed Mt Cook – ‘the youngest on the highest,’ as John Pascoe described his feat. For the next 20 years he made his living as an alpine guide at Mt Cook and elsewhere. His high standards and attention to detail did much to set the pattern of guiding and mountaineering in the early part of the 20th century. But, until recently, he remained a shadowy figure and was not included in the Dictionary of New Zealand Biography. So, a few days ago I was delighted to attend the launch of Graham Langton’s new biography, Summits and shadows: Jack Clarke and New Zealand mountaineering.
As a historian of the mountains and professional archivist, Graham Langton has been able to pull together a fascinating account of early mountaineering in the Southern Alps, illustrated by a huge range of photographs. Although Clarke apparently didn’t take photographs himself, he is recorded in many groups taken by clients and other climbers, slowly changing over the years.
Life as a climbing guide was never easy for Jack Clarke. As well as being an experienced mountaineer, he had to plan every trip and arrange for supplies, act as a general factotum, carry heavy loads, cut or kick steps for his clients, and ensure that they returned all safely. But also, as a paid employee, he needed what would today be called good interpersonal skills and the ability to ensure that his clients returned satisfied from their expeditions. Although Clarke was a quiet, self-effacing man, he was obviously a good companion and was in constant demand as a guide. Two of his well-off clients funded him on overseas trips which helped to broaden his knowledge and experience.
After more than 10 years guiding at the Hermitage, Clarke was enticed to work for the New Zealand Geological Survey in 1906 by James Mackintosh Bell, an ambitious young Canadian geologist. Bell had a strong adventurous streak, and was keen to climb mountains and explore remote areas, as well as keeping an eye on field parties around New Zealand. Jack Clarke was an ideal guide and field hand because he was an experienced organiser as well as being able to handle extreme conditions in the mountains and the bush. Bell recorded his journeys in files, official reports and a later book, The Wilds of Maoriland (1914), where he gives generous credit to Clarke for the success of some difficult trips.
Bell was responsible for the construction of the first Heaphy hut as a base for geological exploration. A famous photograph, used in Te Ara, shows a group in front of the newly completed hut. Geologists have always assumed that the commanding man on the left was Bell, but I have to agree with Graham Langton that it is almost certainly Jack Clarke as he looks so similar to other photographs taken around the same time. Perhaps Bell was the photographer.
In 1909 Clarke returned to the Hermitage as a private guide, and over the next five years undertook some of his most notable climbs in the Southern Alps. He enlisted in the army a few days after the First World War was declared, and his climbing career was over. He lived on for almost 40 years in obscurity, and Graham Langton has painstakingly pieced together the story of the second part of his life.
This biography is a great read for anyone interested in the history of mountaineering and its social history. It is a worthy memorial for Jack Clarke.
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