Robin Mathews

 

Robin Mathews is known by most Canadians as an ardent nationalist with intense and passionate convictions, and he is also one of the finest Canadian political poets.  Few know that Robin grew up in Powell River. There are even fewer that know that Robin’s brother, Tony Mathews (1926-2005), was an important mountaineer in the Powell River area. Tony was a founder of ‘the BOM Squad’. The BOM Squad (Bloody Old Men) opened up many of the trails in Powell River, and Tony climbed most of the peaks in such a

magical and alluring place where ocean and rock meet in an intimate and close way.  

 

Most do not know that one of Robin’s earliest short stories deals with the connection between mountaineering, climbing and politics on the West Coast. ‘Climber’ was published in the prestigious Queen’s Quarterly in 1964. The nationalist debate that emerged with the Massey Commission in the 1950s was about to erupt with greater intensity in the 1960s, and Robin was front and centre in such a lively political ethos.

 

‘Climber’ is set in the Coastal mountain area, and Garibaldi Park is where this drama will unfold in all its poignancy and flair. The short story is divided into three sections, and each section folds into the next in a rather predictable and readable way.

 

Section I opens up the tale. Mountains and mountaineering do not yet enter the story yet. Mathews makes it clear in this short and crisp section that he has serious problems and reservations with Americans. There are Canadians and there are Americans, and Mathews makes it clear in this prologue of sorts that there are distinctive differences that should not be fudged or forgotten. Americans and Canadians might inhabit the same continent, but the cultures are often at substantive odds. This being said upfront, Mathews then moves on to tell the bigger tale about he, Max and their journey into Garibaldi Park. In a letter from Robin, he said, ‘the event that sparked it (‘Climber’) was in 1956/7’ (November 5^th/05).

 

Part II of ‘Climber’ begins this way. ‘I was planning a trip into the coastal mountain range behind the city of Vancouver with two friends. We promised one another we would climb a glacier in Garibaldi Park to give our trip a focus, a reason for being. We poured over maps and sorted stores as amateurs will do, three Canadians, and then Max. But Max was no amateur. He was an American’.

 

Mathews’ two Canadian friends drop out of the trip, and he is left alone, with Max, to plan and take the trip. Max takes total control of the planning and organization, the vision and approach. Max seemed to know everything about the coastal mountains, glaciers and mountaineering, and he made sure one and all were aware of his expertise in these matters. It did not take long, though, once Mathews and Max were on the trail to discover that Max knew little about mountains and was not in the physical shape he should have been.

 

Mathews had to take the lead to the Alpine meadows, then higher. It was in the higher regions that the problems began. Mathews was a student of Earle Birney in the 1950s at UBC, and the reader gets the feeling that another ‘David’ is in the making. Mathews takes the lead up over a fragile ‘snow shelf’ in which Max refuses to tie up. Mathews ‘made a sortee to the brink, alone. We should have been tied. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He was panic stricken. Then it happened….’

 

The reader gets the sickening feeling that, although this is a different type of mountain tale, the tragic conclusion will be the same as ‘David’. But, this is not the case.

 

Part III begins a month after the accident and fall. Mathews is now out of the hospital, and Max is bragging to a gathered and grateful group of friends, about how he rescued Mathews and brought him to safety. Max goes on and on about his heroism and nimble ability to come to the aid of the ailing and fallen Mathews. The real story of what actually happed and why it happened is never told. ‘Climber’ ends with these words, ‘I forgive you, Max’, I said

tonelessly. Then shrugging, I said, tonelessly again, ‘I forgive you Max, everything’.

 

Needless to say, ‘Climber’ is thick with all sorts of political jabs and stabs.

Mathews represents the moderate Canadian way and Max the aggressive and unreflective American way. Obviously, these are caricatures of both Canadian-American traditions, but there is some general truth in them.

Such insights do have a perennial ring of truth to them.

 

‘Climber’, unlike ‘David’, has a political message and clout to it. Birney would have agreed with many of Mathews’ conclusions, but his epic and classic poem on Canadian mountaineering does not go where Mathews has gone in ‘Climber’.

 

‘Climber’ is as much a classic in Canadian literature as ‘David’, and perhaps it is time that ‘Climber’ be placed within the canon of Canadian Literature in the same way that ‘David’ has. Both the poem and short story speak much about mountains, mountaineering and the Canadian literary and political tradition.