The Tokyo Declaration...Part 2

In Tokyo at the New Otani hotel, the evening panel discussions were filled to capacity with on-lookers.  Even Crown Prince Naruhito came for two nights, sitting next to Mrs. Miura in white and carrying an armload of books for the climbers to sign in our private audiences.  Mountaineering is a favorite hobby of the crown prince. His younger brother, Prince Akishino, spent a lot of time with climbers during the course of our stay and seemed to feel a great connection to the gathering, as well.

Each afternoon, we spent time in closed-conference developing what became known as the Tokyo Declaration.  I was amazed at how committed the group was to making this something that would endure.  Doug Scott was very philosophical. John Roskelley was protective of the mountain environment. Jim Wickwire was his usual lawyerly-self, doting the i's and crossing the t's. And Sir Edmund and Messner weighed in long distance. On the last day, it all came together and consensus was reached.  I was given the honor of reading the declaration to the assembly and then we celebrated.

It was a tipping point for climbing. Never had a group of such celebrated and respected mountaineers and adventurers made such a strong statement about life in the mountains.  The following year, the Tokyo Declaration was read into the minutes of the now famous UN Earth Summit in Rio by a delegation from Japan.  It influenced the Rio Declaration on Environment and Development that stands as a guide to preserving our outdoor environment to this day.

It was an exciting time and Jim and I talked late into the night at the Lady Ottoline about the experiences we shared from then.  Since the Tokyo Summit, the mountains and access to them have seen many peaks and valleys.  The tragic Everest disaster of the mid-90’s, chronicled by Jon Krakauer, who was a Mountain Summit participant; the rise and fall of Greg Mortenson, subject of the best-selling book Three Cups of Tea; and the reality of Messner’s prediction that we would eventually have guided climbs to the summit of Everest, all speak to the call of the mountains and their influence on our overcrowded planet.  As Sir Edmund told the Tokyo Summit audience, “I personally believe that we have to make it more difficult for people to get into the wilderness areas. I think it’s most important that we don’t, for instance, have road access or even access by aircraft or helicopters.  Unless you can walk in there, you shouldn’t be able to go.”

Text of The Tokyo Declaration

• We the undersigned believe that the pursuit of adventure is an inherent right of the individual.
• Throughout history, man has been inspired to challenge the unknown on a journey of discovery into the wild places, and into the hidden aspects of his own nature.
• As the right of adventurous opportunities in nature must be preserved, so must the individual assume the responsibility of preserving those natural places.
o We must respect the local peoples and diverse cultures.
o Our presence in the wilderness must leave no permanent trace.
• We resolve to make our actions reflect these principles.  We will, along with kindred spirits, educate others—including our children—to aspire to the challenge of personal adventure, guided by the principals of this declaration.

Our world is smaller now.  There are even more people wanting to go into the mountains. Most are looking for the singular experience then they are on to the next thing.  That doesn’t make you a mountaineer.  True climbers crave the high altitude experience like a drug.  They would never come down if their personal lives didn’t require them to.  Chris Bonington and Colorado’s Jeff Lowe both said that everyone has a right to go into the mountains.  But they also said, if you want the real mountain experience, just walk 50 yards off the trail and you will be alone.  It was a simple statement but the Tokyo Declaration pointed the way to making the wilderness last forever.  It was definitely ahead of its time...at least 20 years.

The Tokyo Declaration...Part 1

It didn’t start out as an anniversary celebration.  The Lady Ottoline Pub doesn’t have a connection to mountaineering, as far as I know.  To W. B. Yeats, T.S. Eliot, Virginia Wolf and D.H. Lawrence, yes.  The Lady herself, an angel to the arts and Central London’s “hostess with the mostest” in the 30’s and 40’s , was said to be the inspiration for Lady Chatterley.  That’s a long way from the early British climbers Mallory and Irvine, who were spending their time at the Royal Geographic Society back then.

Anyway, the Lady Ottoline Pub in London’s Bloomsbury neighborhood, the home of its namesake, is where Jane and I met recently with my good friend Jim Wickwire, retired lawyer and noted first American to climb K2.  It was Sunday and, in England, Sunday roast is mandatory so we enjoyed the mix of beef and pork with our Guinness.

Jim had been on a tour throughout the UK with other celebrated mountaineers who had connections to K2, the second highest mountain and, many say, the most difficult of the world’s 8000 meter peaks.  The tour was a benefit for our British friend Doug Scott’s charity  Community Action Nepal and now Jim was ready to get a good night’s sleep and head back to Seattle.

And finally to the anniversary.  As we reminisced over dinner and counted the passage of time, we realized it has been just over 20 years since a group of us ventured to Tokyo and Mt. Fuji for the fifth edition of the Mountain Summit. A New York Times reporter friend of mine suggested that the mountains were very good at getting bad press for the accidents and tragedies that occur on them. So why not get lovers of the mountains together with journalists and talk about meeting the challenges safely and  rewardingly.

We put out the call and the leaders of the climbing community at the time all responded.  From Reinhold Messner and Chris Bonington to Sir Edmund Hillary, John Roskelley and famed sled-dog racer Susan Butcher, who took a dog team to the summit of Denali, everyone was anxious to put some perspective on adventuring in the mountains. Even rock stars like Lynn Hll and France's Catherine Destivelle joined the enclave. Initially we took over the Lodge at Paradise on Mt. Rainier, then as years progressed, Dick Bass, the first person to climb the Seven Summits, hosted us at his Snowbird Resort in Utah.  When Robert Redford heard we were right next door to Sundance, he invited us there. Our timing was impeccable and the media responded as well.

USA Today, Time magazine, the New York Times, Sports Illustrated, NPR and ABC Sports, among many others, sent reporters to listen and discuss the mountains of the world. Jack Skow, writing for Time magazine, reported “The first Mountain Summit conference ever convened among world-class climbers has been calm. Forty foot chimneys rise above the huge stone fireplaces at each end of the great hall here at Paradise Lodge, and thus far, oddly, no one has climbed them…Everybody is just talking, quite peaceably…What drives (the adventurers) to exasperation is talk of more regulations to snarl freedom of movement in (the mountains of the world).”

When Yuichiro Miura, better known as “The Man Who Skied Down Everest” showed up in Sundance, he and I had an instant connection. He has ski schools in Japan and takes Japanese kids around the world to play golf and ski. An amazing athlete, even now at 82, he’s planning another trip to climb Mt. Everest. He felt it was very important to carry the message of the Mountain Summit to Japan and as we talked the Tokyo Mountain Summit was born.

The Summit reached every corner of the country through live coverage on Tokyo Broadcasting TV and the mountaineers and adventurers were celebrities everywhere we went.  We were front page news.  We walked around the city to drink up the culture of that amazing country. People lined up for photos and autographs when we climbed Mt. Fuji to pay our respects at the prayer temple.  We rode the bullet train, sailed in a tall ship and ate an amazing sushi dinner as we made the climbers visible from one end of the country to the other.

On being Irish...really

America is a land of immigrants. Even the Native Americans came from somewhere else, if you go back far enough. Ireland holds the second spot as far as ancestry goes. Germany is first, don’t ask me why. There are almost 40 million of us here with ties to our homeland.

You would think that after a couple of generations, our allegiance to the "auld sod" would begin to wane. Things change over time. My great-great grandfather married a Sioux Indian woman. Another ancestor hitched a milk cow to a wagon in the Midwest and drove the Oregon trail to the Pacific Ocean to find his fortune.

The McConnell’s were farmers as far back as I can trace them…all the way to County Cork and beyond.  My grandfather started out that way but became a banker.  My dad did too, but he became a soldier. Both of them were staunch Republicans, which is just about all the change I could stand growing up.

My family were strong-willed hard workers, good athletes and singers…always singers.  Every McConnell I’ve known had a song ready when asked…and sometimes when not asked. Grandpa had “Jimmy Crack Corn and I don’t care”.  Dad loved “I love you truly”.  They taught me “I’m looking over a four-leaf clover” when I was about 4-years-old. If company was there and entertainment was called for, that was my song…no dancing, though.

Thank goodness my mother could play the piano. It would drown out some of the off-key voices. The collection of Celts that are my family were full of music.  Mom’s grandfather played the guitar and sang “Danny Boy” at the drop of a hat.  It was her favorite. So regardless of the changes in our lives, when it came to me, the Irish easily won out. Mom had only one choice for a name.

St. Patrick’s Day is an unofficial holiday in America.  But, interestingly, more people talk about it, wear green and claim to be Irish, than express such  passion for any other of the “official” holidays I can think of.  My trips back to Ireland for business or pleasure, always make me feel closer to the earth…closer to my roots…and, of course, closer to a pint of Guinness Ale…or two.

On a trip to kiss the Blarney Stone, (You need help to do it) the gentleman doing the holding asked me where I was from. “America, but my people are from here,” I said. “What do you do there?” “ I’m in public relations.” “You’ve come to the right place then.  What’s your name?”  “Dan McConnell.”  “Well, Danny Boy,” he said, “you’re about to get a big refill on your Blarney…and it sounds like you might need it.”

I’m proud to be an Irish-American…and all that comes with it.  Happy St. Patrick’s Day.