Summiting the Twin Peaks

So far, the culprits of For Shame! have been pansies. As far as comfortableness with the outdoors goes, I mean.  With the exception of our gun-shot-wounded major-leaguer, we haven’t talked much about people who enjoy being one-on-one with mother earth, and even then I’m not so sure  you can call a baseball diamond part of the great outdoors.  Probably a few of our culprits did it outdoors once or twice, but practically no one we’ve talked about has been someone who really enjoys getting their hands dirty.  With dirt, I mean.  I think it’s safe to say all of our perps enjoyed getting other kinds of dirty substances on their hands…and fingers…but dirt isn’t one of them.

So for my first post-finals post, I set out to find an outdoorsy historical sex-muffin.  But the quest proved more challenging than I anticipated.

Mallory in his uniform with wife Ruth in background. Looking young, sexy, and ready to climb (ontop of each other.)

My first target was George Mallory.  Because he was super hot.  And I thought he had to have illicitly boned some bitches at one point or another.  But guess what, the man was as monogamous as…I don’t know.   Monogamy really isn’t our thing here at For Shame!  The point is, a other than a few suggestions that Georgina may have enjoyed the company of men a little more than your average heterosexual, there’s NOTHING scandalous about him on the internets.

After my first deflated research erection, I found a list of famous climbers/mountaineers on wikipedia and started clicking on the historical ones.  And that yielded almost nothing.  Here’s my theory.  And remember, I am a professional scandal-finder, so I’m kind of an expert.  Mountaineers were too fucking in love with mountains (which look like boobs?) to make bad choice.  Actually!  Someone somewhere referred to Mallory’s “love affair” with Everest.  So there you go.  For most of these historical outdoorspeople, the mountains were the other woman, or man.  And even if these people did engage in sexcapades of yore, we wouldn’t know about them because the people who are writing their wiki pages today have too big of a boner for their career accomplishments to disrespectfully divulge anything scandalous.  BORING.  I don’t care how many times they summited K2, I care how many illegitimate Nepalese babies they sired!  AM I RIGHT!?!

These are mountains that look like breasts.

But lucky for you, I am a skilled as fuck scandal-finder, and I did manage to hit upon a little nugget of golden scandal.  The culprit’s name is Martin Conway, 1st Baron Conway of Allington.  Snooty name, right?  you should already think he’s an asshole.  I know I did.  Now, I hope you don’t mind, but the wikiauthor and the internet in general were both holding out on me so I’m going to have to embellish the story a little, so humor me, will you?

Martin graduated from Trinity College at Cambridge in 1882 and got himself engaged to a little number named Rose Shakespear.  Because he had cultivated an interest in woodcuts and engravings (SQUARE) during his undergraduate years, his professor decided to send him to Europe to soak up all of the art museums/pussy.   On his grand tour, while collecting art/venereal diseases in Italy, he met a cutie patootie named Katrina Lambard.  Kat was, conveniently, LOADED.  As the daughter of the founder of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway and the step-daughter of the editor/owner of the New York World magazine, girlfriend would have have been the Paris fucking Hilton of her time.  So, like a boss, Martin dumped Miss Shakespear real fast and married Katrina faster than you can say, “dowry.”

Grab a hold of those handlebars and you could ride this Baron until he starts collecting social security.

Meanwhile, Martin is becoming a famous pants mountaineer.  In the early 1880s, he and a friend wrote a series of climbing guides, and he started naming and climbing a bunch of unnamed Alpine mountains.  In 1892, his career PEAKED, when he claimed a world altitude record of 23,000 feet by summiting a big hill in northern Pakistan.  He continued to climb, explore, survey, and map mountains all over the world.  He explored a number of the untouched peaks in Europe and South America including Spitsbergen (Norway) and parts of the Tierra del Fuego (Patagonia.)

Scandal time: Spry as he was, in 1924 at the age of sixty fucking eight, he started an affair with a twenty fucking four year-old divorcee named Monica Hadow.  Conway’s wiki article says that the two worked together, but it’s not exactly clear in what capacity they were “working.”  I’m going to imagine that it was something entirely inappropriate.  Like it was her job to polish his ski pole.  The affair lasted for 6 years, until 1930 when Monica re-married.  Let me just do that math for you.  He was 74 when the affair ended.  And he didn’t have Viagra helping him out or NOTHIN’.  It was probably all the thin mountain air he was breathing.  Take note, men.

I’d like to tell you that some big to-do happened when word of the affair got out to the hoity toity society people.  Like that he was kicked out of the Alpine Club or lost one of his titles.  But nothing really went down.  Except Monic Hadow on Martin’s walking stick if you know what I mean.  Probably the lack of kerfuffle can be attributed to the fact that he was a septagenarian and no one really cared.  But hey, WE CARE!

Bear Grylls probably worked at REI.

LISTEN UP LADIES: Here’s what I’ve decided to take away from my nearly fruitless quest to find an out of doors scandal: climbers are a fantastic brand of man. Seriously.  I think it says something that it’s so hard to find a disloyal historical hiker.  I really do.  I’m not saying that there is no climber in history who’s never enjoyed looking at his sherpa’s ass as he leads him up a boob-shaped mountain, I’m just saying, on the whole, they’re a good people.

Ever since I was about 13, I’ve been telling my mom that I’m going to marry a guy who works at REI.  Here me out.  Those men can rock scruff and a pair of tevas like it’s nobody’s business.  And now, after working on this blog for a month and half, I’ve realized that historically, mountaineers are way less inclined to cheat than writers, politicians, athletes, or royalty.  And as we’ve learned from our friend Martin Conway, they can still get it up when they’re elderly.

So ladies, grab a pair of smartwool and some hiking boots and find yourself a nalgene-toting nature lover before they’re all taken.

LHB


4 Comments on “Summiting the Twin Peaks”

  1. MHL says:

    LHB, you are terrific fun, even in a dose of blogging. Carry on.

  2. lbar216 says:

    MHL, you’re too kind. Glad you’re enjoying our antics/in-depth historical research.

  3. Tyrrell Lourie says:

    LHB, recent history has tales of nude parties at base camps 1 and 2 in Himalayas while waiting to acclimate. Though I don’t know what hypothermia and hypoxia do to one’s sex drive; mayhaps further investigation (w/REI hottie) required?

  4. lbar216 says:

    TY! I did come across stories about nude hikers in my “research.” But contextually, climbing K2 with your ding dong out isn’t really scandalous. And after all, scandal is what we at For Shame! are all about. Thank you for reading!


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