By Stacy Corless

Photo by John Dittli.

PEAK BAGGING IS BY NATURE A LOFTY PURSUIT — though the loft typically involves elevated altitude rather than soaring intellect. But 2009 is a landmark year to celebrate the relationship of science and mountain sports atop some of the Sierra’s most beguiling peaks, named after (r)evolutionary nineteenth century thinkers.

Charles Darwin was born 200 years ago. His seminal work — On the Origin of Species — was published 150 years ago. And from 1864 to 1895, the debates and accomplishments of natural science were played out in the naming of Sierra summits.
Whatever your views of Darwinism, use the milestone as a good excuse to head to the mountains to engage your bipedal ability and flaunt your opposable thumbs.

THE EVOLUTION GROUP: DARWIN & FRIENDS

In the 1890s, Theodore Solomons explored the still-mysterious High Sierra in search of a timberline north-south route from Kings Canyon to Yosemite. Solomons chose a formidable ridge of peaks at the headwaters of the South Fork San Joaquin to boast the names of evolutionary theorists whom he obviously admired, since the Evolution region is one of the most spectacular spots in the entire range. Mounts Darwin, Mendel, Spencer, Haeckel, Wallace, Huxley and Fiske make up the Evolution Group. Here are some highlights and history.

“To mountaineers who collect major Sierra summits, the name Mount Darwin signifies a mandatory climb,” writes guidebook author Steve Roper in The Sierra High Route. To biology students, Darwin is also mandatory; most scientists accept his conclusions that species experience change in characteristics over long periods of time, that natural selection is the mechanism for the evolutionary process, and that species develop from a single source through specialization.

All backcountry travelers can admire the distinctive 13,831-foot summit of Darwin, but only specialized alpine hikers will make it there. It’s a tricky ascent up class 3 chutes to a small pinnacle with lots of exposure.

Gregor Mendel (1822-1884) is considered the father of modern genetics. A monk in the eastern reaches of the Austrian empire, Mendel’s research in tracking inherited traits in pea plants was independent and unprecedented; his development of a system of hereditary factors became a foundation of evolutionary theory after his death. Mount Mendel (13,710 feet), the northernmost peak in the Evolution Group, is best known for its north slope’s ice climbing — be careful not to make it a gene-pool limiting hobby.

Herbert Spencer (1820-1903) coined the phrase “survival of the fittest” and applied Darwin’s evolutionary theory to the development of human civilization. Fittingly, the 12,400-foot peak named after Spencer is a very civilized, easy climb from Evolution Basin, with a most rewarding view.

THE ANTI-DARWIN: MOUNT AGASSIZ

If evolution’s not for you, head south a few miles to a peak named for the paleontologist and Darwin contemporary Louis Agassiz. He disavowed the notion that all mankind — and life — shared common origins. Though his challenge of Darwin’s theories have provoked scientific insight, Agassiz’s belief in polygenism — the theory that human races had separate geographic and biological origins and unequal characteristics — has marred his legacy.

While Charles Darwin was a devout abolitionist who hoped his scientific observations could combat racism, Agassiz’s racial theories were popular among slave traders. Still, Agassiz is remembered as a founder of the American scientific tradition for his work as a teacher and administrator at Harvard, and his namesake peak is a worthy destination.

No need to be a highly evolved climber to tackle what mountaineering author R.J. Secor calls the easiest peak of the Palisades Group. Mount Agassiz’s 13,893-foot apex, with up-close and stunning views of its impressive neighbors, can be reached as a long day hike from the Bishop Pass trailhead.

THE PROGRESSIVE: MOUNT CLARENCE KING

Though probably an admirer of Darwin’s work, Clarence King (1842-1901) is best known as an intrepid explorer and mapper of the Sierra in the 1860s and 70s who tended toward extreme hyperbole in his descriptions of mountain climbing (most famously, his repeated attempts to find and conquer Mount Whitney).

King also became the first director of the U.S. Geological Survey, and was a celebrated figure amongst American society types of the day — in fact, John Hay (secretary to Lincoln and later Secretary of State under President McKinley) called King “the best and brightest man of his generation.”

But King proved to be more socially evolved than any of his high-brow contemporaries could have imagined: the blue-eyed, blue-blood King essentially led a double life and was secretly married to a black woman and former slave 20 years his junior. A recently published biography of King delves into his relationship with Ada Todd, who believed her husband to be a mixed-race Pullman porter, which explained his frequent, extended absences.

A new, critically acclaimed biography of King has brought him into the spotlight this year: Passing Strange, by Martha Sandweiss, examines King’s marriage to Todd in the context of “gilded age” life.

Modern-day Sierra explorers can contemplate King’s unusual story from atop his namesake peak in the heart of Kings Canyon (at 12,905 feet, the highest point on the King Spur), accessed from 60 Lakes Basin and Rae Lakes. It’s a technical climb with a 5.4 summit block finale, no less dramatic than King himself.

Further Reading:

R.J. Secor
The High Sierra: Peaks, Passes, and Trails
(The Mountaineers, third edition 2009)

Steve Roper
The Sierra High Route (The Mountaineers, second edition 1997)

Martha A. Sandweiss
Passing Strange: A Gilded Age Tale of Love and Deception Across the Color Line (Penguin, 2009)