CCS/WREAF 2014 Artists’ Showcase & Art Auction

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The Wilderness River Expedition Art Fellowship (CCS/WREAF) Program, under the inspired leadership of Rob Mullen, encourages nature artists to live their art on extended, self-supported river expeditions in some of the most rugged and remote regions of the world. The arduous rigors and sublime joys of wilderness canoe travel provide intense experiences that inform the artists, ensuring that the artwork remains grounded in the realities of the natural world.

The resulting artwork, however varied, is connected by a thread of shared adventure and experience. By exhibiting these individual visions together, usually within a natural history context, we work to raise awareness of the areas in which these rivers run. A principal focus of WREAF expeditions has been the North American portion of the Circumpolar Boreal Forest – the largest terrestrial ecosystem on Earth, critical for global climate, fresh water, indigenous cultures, wildlife and birds.

We are delighted to present this showcase for CCS/WREAF artists, featuring 41 original artworks from 9 exceptional artists. In addition to supporting the work of these artists, your purchases will help support CCS/WREAF programming. Thank you for participating!

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What in the world!

cropped essay photoWhat’s THAT in Bill Fitzhugh’s backpack?

Object 1. [far left, Horse Tooth] Electrical insulator? Ceramic kiln waster? Wrong on both counts! This is a 3000-year old horse tooth from the Mongolian steppe. I have been excavating Bronze Age Deer Stones in Mongolia for the past twelve years. One thousand deer stones—megalithic granite plinths standing for warriors—are among the most enigmatic monuments known from Central Asia. Their true age remained unknown until Smithsonian and Mongolian archaeologists discovered sacrificed horses arranged in rings around the deer stones. By radiocarbon-dating horse remains, we discovered the deer stones date to 700-1200 B.C. Horse teeth like this molar were the most reliable dating samples.

Object 2. [second from left, Swordfish Harpoon] The earliest harpoons in the world come from the Rift Valley in East Africa, date some 50-60,000 years old, and were used for catching fish. Toggling harpoons like this one can capture much larger animals, and were first invented by early maritime hunters in northern Japan about 6-7,000 years ago. They work by ‘toggling’ beneath the skin and blubber, allowing hunters to capture seals, walrus, and whales. This bronze harpoon is used by swordfish hunters along the New England coast. I bought this one in Chatham, Massachusetts. Its form copies a style of toggling harpoon used by Greenland Eskimos that was passed on to Dutch whalers in the 17th century.

Object 3. [third from left, Chinese Roof Tile] This fragment of green-glazed Chinese roof tile comes from the spoil piles of the German excavations at Kharakorum, the capitol city of the Great Mongol Empire. Kharakorum was founded in 1235 by Ogodei Khan, one of Genghis Khan’s sons, and was not finished until the 1260s. William of Rubruck, a Franciscan monk and emissary of the Pope, visited the city in 1254 and described its thirteen temples of many different religious denominations, including a Nestorian Christian church. It also had artists’ shops and the khan’s Great Palace, which Rubruck described as having a silver tree designed by the French goldsmith, Guillaume Boucher, which delivered fermented mare’s milk and four other liquors from its branches.

Object 4. [fourth from left, Inuksuk Model] Thule Eskimos and their Inuit descendents built inuksuks (“like a man”) as geographic and spiritual markers throughout the Central Canadian Arctic. Made of rough unhewn stones and assembled in the likeness of a human being, inuksuks have become the iconic motif of the Canadian Arctic and its Inuit people. Their original use is obscure, but their placement at prominent locations suggests use as geographic markers and way-finding aids. Others were erected in converging caribou drive lines to mimic humans and scare caribou into locations where they could be killed.

Object 5. [fifth from left, Iron Spike] Railroad spikes are pretty common, and their trail can be found girdling the world. Despite their ubiquity, some have more historical value than others! This spike comes from a section of Stalin’s gulag railway near Salekhard, north of the Arctic Circle at the mouth of the Ob River in Western Siberia (Russia). I collected this souvenir during an archaeological survey with Russian colleagues in the 1990s. The rail lines connect Stalin’s forced labor camps across the Russian Arctic and was built and maintained by tens of thousands of political prisoners, most of whom died in the process. Much of the steel rails and iron spikes were produced by German and American industry to aid in “developing Russia’s post-WWII economy.”

Object 6. [far right, Atlas vertebra] This small bone is the first cervical vertebra of a small seal. It is called the atlas vertebra because it articulates with the base of the skull, whose weight is borne on its two broad, wing-like flanges. The atlas has a small hole into which fits the pin-like bone extension on the upper surface of the axis vertebra, the second cervical vertebra, so-named because it allows the cranium to rotate easily right to left.

William W. Fitzhugh is a specialist in circumpolar anthropology and archaeology who has spent more than forty years studying and publishing on arctic peoples and cultures in northern Canada, Alaska, Scandinavia, and Mongolia. He is founder and Director of the Arctic Studies Center at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History and a Trustee of The Center for Circumpolar Studies.

Register now to find out more about what Bill has in his backpack at The Arctic Roadshow, from 1-5PM on Saturday, March 22, at the Hulbert Outdoor Center, Fairlee, VT.

Shamans and Ethics in a Global World

Until recently the shaman was the heartbeat of a tightly knit indigenous or traditional community that integrated the social and spiritual, material and mythic realms. The shaman, as keeper of generations of accumulated knowledge and experience, entered ecstatic flight not for personal gain or to foster inner growth, but to maintain a reciprocal relationship between the human and the other-than-human worlds, to talk with the spirits and return with wisdom and healing. Today many who dub themselves shamans no longer belong to a culture of community embedded in such a shamanic perspective, but rather come from the present generation of those primarily searching to find themselves. Thus, many of the new shamans are ill equipped to engage in their practice of working with clients who come to them with a variety of physical, psychic, and spiritual ailments. The traditional indigenous shaman has the accumulated cultural experience and wisdom of generations of healers connected to a cosmology that gives meaning to both the illnesses and the shamanic processes of healing. By contrast, many of the new shamans have but limited knowledge of any cosmology that could inform and surround them with a sense of rootedness and ultimate meaning. Many of them receive limited training, some only from second- or third-hand sources, such as anthropologists who once came in contact with shamanism during their fieldwork, or from persons who have had no direct or primary personal experience of the shamanic craft. Perhaps worst of all, some new shamans believe such information and experience can be gleaned from books, without any human teacher whatsoever. All of this results in isolating the new shamans from a conceptual and contextual community with an integrated worldview and mythos.

A Sami shaman with his magic drum (meavrresgárri). Copper  carving by O.H. von Lode, for a book by Knud Leem, “Beskrivelse over Finnmarkens Lapper, deres Tungemaal, Levenmaade og forrige Afgudsdyrkelse”

A Sami shaman with his magic drum (meavrresgárri). Copper carving by O.H. von Lode, for a book by Knud Leem, “Beskrivelse over Finnmarkens Lapper, deres Tungemaal, Levenmaade og forrige Afgudsdyrkelse”

This isolation from the checks and balances that a supportive, and also critical, community provides places these new shamans in the ethically questionable situation of conducting traditional shamanic practices, such as attempting to heal illnesses of the body, mind, or spirit, outside of the bond that informed and tied the earlier shaman to a cultural community. They are, in fact, outside of any long-standing tradition altogether. This same isolation is the cause of many problems that face the new shamans. Especially this is true in issues of ethics, which depend on a cultural context for their resolution.

Even though no less a scholar than Mircea Eliade applies the term shaman more or less across the board to anyone who undertakes “magical flight,” who “specializes in a trance during which his soul is believed to leave his body and ascend to the sky or descend to the underworld,” Eliade does add this essential qualifier which we would do well to remember: “As for the shamanic techniques of ecstasy, they do not exhaust all the varieties of ecstatic experience documented in the history of religions and religious ethnology. Hence any ecstatic cannot be considered a shaman.”

Does this leave us with a clear picture of who the shaman is or of what the shaman does with regard to trance or magical flight? No, and this is the point. The picture is not one but many, because of the incredible richness and diversity of cultural experiences throughout the world. This makes it both hard and easy to use the term shaman. Hard, because it is not always readily apparent who among the various practitioners in a society are shamans, or healers, dreamers, witches and wizards, priestesses and priests, etc. The lines between these categories and others are not consistent among the many peoples of the world. Easy, because the title shaman can thus be readily slipped on, like a second-hand sweater, even when there may be no justification for it.

Despite the restraint of scholars, the situation today is that the term shaman has been usurped by the popular imagination and the popular marketplace, and is now superimposed on all manner of persons who bear little or no resemblance to a traditional shaman in any culture. Without a community that recognizes the new shamans as an integral part of the culture, what makes these people, in fact, shamans at all except that they so call themselves? Attendant on this is the issue of what techniques and practices the new shaman is competent to carry out, and how to avoid the problems of ego inflation, lust for power, greed, and other psychological issues that can arise to test integrity.

Those who seek to manipulate the day to day ordinary world by reaching their hands into the other world of the spirits to bring back other-worldly powers open themselves to the possibility of encountering spirits that harm as well as spirits that heal. Dare we doubt that this can be so? Frank Speck told us that among the Penobscot, the mede’olinas.kwei was “accredited with the power to kill or injure creatures by pointing a finger at them.” The power to do such malevolent work comes from the dark side of the spirit world, which one can also encounter in trance, and which can be called to oneself if taken over by the motive to seize power for harm. The shaman can be possessed by the greed for power over others, the power that injures, just as much as the shaman can be motivated to work with spirits who provide power on behalf of others, the power that heals.

Let us look at this carefully. Power is directed by the shaman’s own inner will for evil or for good. In this sense, power itself is neutral and available to the shaman who shapes power by intention, desire, motive, drive, and will. Especially for the new shaman, isolated from a watchful community, it is more difficult to remain pure in heart with regard to issues of power. The fact that the petitioner receives information or direction from the spirit world to act in a certain way or to do a certain thing does not in and of itself justify that action or guarantee that that action will be benevolent. All manner of spirits are there to lead those who turn to the spirit world. But which spirits come to the petitioner depends totally on the integrity and intention of the one seeking them. When the shaman holds clearly the map of the community’s mythos, then the shaman is able to discern among the spirits and to perceive the meaning or truth of the messages the spirits deliver.

The person who talks with spirits must be able to tell what is good information from what is not good information. Here the purpose, the reason, for seeking spirit aid means everything. The shaman, according to Eliade, is able “to communicate” with spirits in the other world “without thereby becoming their instrument.” We must also add to this, that the shaman is able first to identify who the spirits are who respond to the drumming call, and then, second, not to be seduced by these spirits or possessed by them. Possession by spirits in trance does occur, even among shamans, but the main distinguishing mark of the shaman is the ability to be in two worlds at once, in this world and in the other world simultaneously.

The issue of what kind of spirits choose to speak to the practitioner does not arise when the person is disciplined, aware of the dangers, is being clear with her- or himself about underlying motives, and is paying attention to which spirits are speaking in reply.

The problem is more likely to happen when the practitioner forgets or ignores the discipline, and allows vigilance to wander or waver. Under these circumstances, such a person may well be unaware of how difficult it is to recognize or acknowledge that the spirit who visits may be a projection of his own mind and not a genuine vision visited on his trance mind from the spirit world. Either consciously or unconsciously, each of us can be facile in duping ourselves into thinking or believing whatever serves our ends.

Without a map of the cultural, contextual mythos to which the practitioner belongs, how can such a person possibly evaluate what comes through from the so-called spirit world? How can such a person discriminate between wishful thinking, wish fulfillment and the genuine thing? Only with vigilance and the constant discipline of honestly examining one’s own motives, of brining one’s deepest urges for power and control to light, can one get beyond one’s own shadow self.

Today, where is the community that is consciously wakeful to what the magician, the shaman, is doing and so is able and ready to hold up the mirror of critique or censure?

Perhaps the new shamans should consider whether it is important or appropriate in any way to call themselves shamans in order to practice whatever techniques they have mastered for the benefit of others. For some few, perhaps, who are willing and able to make the lifetime commitment to the discipline that is required, it is appropriate. But for most others, the mantle of the shaman is only a veneer, an outer covering, which they put on and take off as convenient. Better, and more honest, to think of themselves, and call themselves by some other name than by the name that carries with it the weight and responsibility of shaman. However, by whatever title one assumes, the ethical issues remain. As soon as one presumes to be in contact with spirits and powers in the other world, in the world one can contact through trance, then one takes on at the very least the responsibility to act with ethical clarity.

The many roles of the ancient shaman will never totally be acted out again; the world is too much altered and changed. Yet there are aspects of the ancient work that are still valid today because all people share basic human needs for the nourishment and well-being of the body, mind, and spirit. So long as these aspects of life remain ephemeral and uncertain, there will always be a place for the person who can provide relief from the illnesses, pains, and insecurities that humans suffer. The challenge for the new shaman today, if indeed there must be new shamans, is to maintain a strong personal ethical balance, free of self-delusion. This requires wisdom and knowledge and a lifetime commitment to this awesome responsibility. For some few, this may be possible. For most, it is better to use their abilities in more contained but equally effective ways, as doctors, psychotherapists, teachers, artists, writers, priests, and others for whom having a relationship with the spirit world is essential for the fulfillment of what they do. For this kind of life, the title of shaman is both misleading and unnecessary.

In the past, the shaman was the center of a small, tightly knit community that saw itself as The People, and who believed their home place was the center of the world. Today no people can afford such luxury. Every people is inter-connected with every other people around the globe. The shaman today, if there are to be shamans today, must break free of the limited, restricted, ethnocentric view of the past, and must regard the whole world as the home place. They must go beyond all national, cultural, and ethnic barriers; the term shaman may no longer be able to carry the additional meaning of the person whose community is the world, and whose duty it is to engage in helping to heal the world.

By: Eleanor Kokar Ott

Top of the World Exhibit

Vermont artist and Johnson State College Fine Arts Professor Ken Leslie has completed more than a dozen Arctic residencies over the past 15 years, creating paintings and artist’s books about light and time, both of which take on endlessly interesting permutations in the north.  Leslie’s paintings and unique book structures were created during residencies in the northern regions of Alaska, Canada’s Baffin Island, Iceland, Svalbard, Scandinavia, and – most recently – Greenland.

_The Last Umiak,_ Watercolor, Ken Leslie

“The Last Umiak,” Watercolor, Ken Leslie

Having experienced the Arctic in both summer and winter, Leslie prefers the dark time: “The first thing I noticed, and loved, about the Winter Arctic is the Quiet.  Snow muffles what little noise there is . . . the few roads are easy to escape; there are no trees for the wind to rustle, and the millions of summer birds have long since gone – the terns all the way to Antarctica.  That Quiet is the perfect sound track for the Dark.  When you hear of ‘24 hours of darkness,’ you get the idea of total, pitch-black darkness.  But the reality is that there are many kinds of darkness.  What the Winter Arctic loses in direct sunlight, it gains in twilights – the most amazing range of rich indigos and French ultramarines and cobalts.  The intensity of this blue seems greatest when there’s a cloud cover, and what little light there is reverberates back and forth between the sky above and the snow cover below.  The filtered light wavelength seems to multiply in saturation, and you feel as if you’re walking through blue, not merely below it or in front of it.  You breathe it in, bathe in it – become part of it.”

In speaking of his powerful watercolor “The Last Umiak,” depicting a spiritual journey by umiak, a traditional skin boat used by both Yup’ik and Inuit Eskimos, Leslie reveals, “I dreamed this last journey of that disappearing culture.”  Found in coastal communities from Siberia to Greenland, the large, open umiaks were traditionally used to transport groups of people and for crews hunting walrus and whales.  In the eastern Arctic, the umiaks were frequently rowed by women to transport children and family possessions and are sometimes referred to as “women’s boats.”  Umiaks, still made from Bearded seal (or sometimes walrus) skins but often fitted with an outboard motor, are sill very much in use in Alaska’s northern coastal villages during the spring whaling season when the large boats are launched by whaling crews from the ice edge of the open lead in pursuit of Bowhead whales migrating along the coast.

While many of Leslie’s works are typically flat, he has pioneered working on circular constructions that allow him to paint 360° panoramas that move through space and time.  While working on a particularly large drawing, Leslie realized that “if I cut a hole in the center, I could fold the work into what became my ‘doughnut accordion’ structure.”  These signature creations are, indeed, doughnut-shaped, narrative paintings, many of which focus on light and the way it changes with and through the Arctic seasons.  In addition to paintings, Leslie also creates one-of-a-kind artist’s books, which address a variety of themes, including “our place in the universe, a layman’s theory of relativity, the battle between nature and technology, and light and dark on or above the Arctic Circle,” explains Leslie.

Ken Leslie is a well-known artist who exhibits and lectures internationally.  He has received numerous awards for his work, which is supported by the National Endowment for the Arts, the Vermont Arts Council, and the American-Scandinavian Foundation.  Examples of his work may also be viewed at his website.Also on display will be the charming and evocative watercolors and etchings of CCS associate Bianca Perren, an artist and paleoecologist who has spent the past 15 years working on lakes in the Canadian High Arctic, Greenland and Svalbard investigating the nature of the changing Arctic landscape.  Under the microscope and in visual art, Perren’s work focuses on exploring the environmental response to climate change, pollution, and more direct human land use.  Her watercolors, often done, en plein air, in the field, often near lake coring locations, Norse sites, or falcon eyries, mark her experience of the landscape more immediately, as snapshots of a day, or a fjord, or as a memory of time on the landscape.

This will be Perren’s second exhibit in Vermont; many of you may remember her previous exhibit at River Arts, Morrisville, VT in February 2013.  Perren’s work may also be viewed at her website.
"Wounded Caribou," Agyhagayu Cape Dorset 1961

“Wounded Caribou,” Agyhagayu
Cape Dorset 1961

Rounding out this exhibit are Inuit prints, loaned from the Sullivan Museum at Norwich University, which received the collection of prints as a gift from Dr. Robert Christie.  These wonderful works were printed in the 1960s and 70s, just as the Inuit printmaking industry was becoming established in the Canadian Arctic, especially in Cape Dorset, which remains a hub for artistic activity.  In the treeless Arctic, printing from woodcuts (in which a raised image is carved on a flat piece of wood) was not a practical option for printmakers; early on, the Inuit artists experimented with imported linoleum floor tiles, but they soon found the relatively soft and easily carved local greenstone to be ideally suited for creating “stonecut” prints.
Inuit artists have often used printmaking to illustrate myths and local history as well as to document traditional ways of life within the evolving cultural and social landscapes.  The striking images often feature animals, which were regarded as important spiritual beings; within this worldview, local communities were not simply surviving on the wildlife resources within their environment but were living in a highly structured relationship with them.

The Chandler Center for the Arts has additional activities planned to complement the exhibit.  A lecture on the topic of Northern cultures by CCS Trustee Kathleen Osgood will be offered (free of charge) at 7PM on Monday, 22 July in the Gallery, and a printmaking workshop (pre-registration and fee required) will be offered by Janet Cathey at 4:30PM on Tuesday, 30 July.

For more information, please contact Beck McMeekin (802.728.6464).

 

Coming Fall 2013: Anima Borealis

The Center for Circumpolar Studies announces the launch of a pilot course around humanities issues in the North. “Anima Borealis” is a 90-hour course focusing on spirit worlds and spirit masters in the North. Created by CCS Trustees Kathleen Osgood and Eleanor Kokar Ott, Anima Borealis takes an experiential approach to accessing other than-human worlds. The course has been built in collaboration with the University of the Arctic, using UArctic’s Virtual Learning Tool. While all the course materials are online, Osgood and Ott will lead the course at the Kellogg-Hubbard Library on Tuesdays, starting September 3. Course registration materials will be made available through the CCS website, where a complete course description will also be listed. Please contact Kati (kathleen.osgood@gmail.com)  for more specific details on the course.

 

The Mongolian Tuvan Survival Project

RidingReindeerandHorsesIn March 2013, Santis Productions President Ed Nef approached The Center for Circumpolar Studies in hopes of generating interest and academic support for establishing a culture and language program around the summer grazing grounds traditionally used by Mongolia’s small population of Tuvan reindeer herders, or the Dukha, as they call themselves.  Having worked with Nef previously, CCS Trustees were familiar with his extensive experience in Mongolia (formerly with language instruction and more recently with the award-winning documentary Mongolia: Mining Challenges a Civilization), his obvious love of the country and its people, and his natural enthusiasm for tackling large projects.  We were both delighted and honored to become involved in such an exciting endeavor, and have recently accepted a contribution to help fund CCS participation in establishing the program this summer.
CCS Trustee Victoria Hust will soon be traveling to Mongolia to participate, first, in the international task force gathering in Ulaanbaatar for education conferences and, then, in the summer fieldwork and language instruction to be conducted on the taiga in the Khovsgol Province, in northwestern Mongolia, near the Siberian border.

Background

During the days of Ghingis Khan, a Tuva nation straddled what is now the Mongolian/Russian border.  Disapproving of this nation within two nations, the Soviets established a border, which was strictly enforced, separating the Tuvan speakers inhabiting Mongolian territory from those remaining in Russia.  The small groups trapped in Mongolia, suddenly isolated from their more numerous Russian kin, were reluctantly accepted as Mongolian citizens.  Despite attempts to cling to their traditions and customs, their demise seemed inevitable as they were left without the possibility of contact with the larger Tuvan community remaining in Russia.
Over the next fifty years, until the fall of communism, Tuvan culture slowly diminished in Mongolia, but it also managed to achieve a character of its own, apart from the Russian relatives, becoming known to Mongolians as Tsaatan, or reindeer people. Tuvans comprise the smallest ethnic minority within Mongolia.  Estimates indicate that there are between 44 and 56 Dukha households in the Khovsgol Province, with the total population estimated to be in the range of 200 to 300 people.  With few of the younger generation conversant in Tuvan, many of the elders are fearful that their language and culture will soon be completely forgotten.

The Program

CCS will be collaborating with Oyunbadam, a native Tuvan speaker who is also a trained teacher, in her efforts to establish a language program in the traditional summer camps on the taiga, where the nomadic reindeer herders gather in extended family groups for the brief summer period.  The language program will encourage rich and meaningful use of the native language within an authentic cultural setting and assist in transmission of culturally relevant information from elders to the younger generation.
In this first summer, the language program will serve approximately 60-65 students, aged 8-15 years.  The students will be taught vocabulary and grammar and will be encouraged to use the Tuvan language in writing and in their daily communications within the camp.  By enlisting the participation of elders, the program will encourage traditional activities, customs and games, thus strengthening ethnic values and identity, which will also be reinforced by introducing the students to various genres of Tuvan literature.  Basic Oral language Documentation (BOLD) techniques will be used to record portions of the language training as well as to document summer camp activities with significant cultural relevance.  A documentary film crew from Santis Productions will also be present to record and document aspects of this innovative program.
International academic interest in this proposed language program has encouraged additional support within Mongolia, where the President recently issued a proclamation announcing governmental support for saving the Tuvan language and culture in Mongolia, focusing especially on the Dukha’s rights to receive education and committing his government to keep ancient cultures and traditions alive.  The Mongolian Ministry of Education has also committed to provide assistance after the program has been established this summer.
CCS will take the lead in assembling academic focus on the Tuvan culture and language.  Building on Mongolian experience over at least a decade, and drawing on experience from this fieldwork, CCS proposes to develop courses to integrate this program into the development of curriculum broadly focused on the Circumpolar North, where reindeer and reindeer-herding cultures are significant areas of interest.  The stature and credibility brought to the program through collaboration with international organizations, such as CCS and Santis Productions, will encourage continued interest from the Mongolian government, and the documentary film will publicize the program in Mongolia and internationally.  It is our hope that integration of this program into the broader curriculum at CCS will assist in recruiting scholars interested in the Tuvan culture and language, and CCS will encourage and nurture participation of native Tuvans as opportunities are developed.

Book Review: Eastern Alpine Guide

EAG CoverEastern Alpine Guide: Natural History and Conservation of Mountain Tundra East of the Rockies

M.T. Jones & L.L. Willey, Editors.
New Salem, MA: Beyond Ktaadn & Boghaunter Books, 2012.
xx + 348p, illustrated, paperback. ISBN 978-0-9883535-1-0. $34.95

Reviewed by Steven B. Young
Hikers on the northern end of the Appalachian Trail know that it reaches above timberline, into the Alpine Zone, in a few places such as the Presidential Range and Mount Katahdin. These tundra areas are similar to the true Arctic that lies a thousand miles to the north, and they have unique ecosystems that reflect this. What is less well known is that there are many more, and more extensive, alpine areas not so far north of New England, and they often harbor some of the iconic wildlife of the Arctic, such as ptarmigan, arctic hares, and the more widespread caribou.
Mike Jones, Liz Willey and several of their colleagues have spent the past decade in a labor of love, culminating in the Eastern Alpine Guide. This is a detailed, scholarly, and beautiful introduction to these alpine summits and plateaus. Some of the places they discuss are becoming well known, such as Gros Morne National Park in Newfoundland.
Others are seldom visited and remain true wilderness. The authors subscribe to the view that these pristine areas are more likely to be appreciated and preserved if they become better known. The Eastern Alpine Guide is a major contribution toward this goal.
All proceeds from sales of the  Eastern Alpine Guide support the nonprofit mission of Beyond Ktaadn. The Eastern Alpine Guide may be purchased online (http://easternalpine.org/eag/guide.html); copies may also be purchased at Center for Circumpolar Studies events.