Banff, Books and Bears: Will Herman in the Rockies

We were beyond thrilled to see Will Herman’s debut, Northern Horizons, take home the Guidebook Category at Banff this year. Will’s book is a distinctive love letter to the mountains of Cumbria and Scotland, and we hope this international recognition will help even more readers discover it.

While in Banff to receive the award, Will took time to explore both the festival and the surrounding mountains, and has written this excellent account of his experience to share that journey with us.

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If the publication of Northern Horizons represented the achievement of a lifetime’s ambition, receiving the Guidebook Award at Banff was the point at which that sense of imposter syndrome, which I suspect many aspiring authors have wrestled with, finally dissipated.

In the months prior, a succession of reviews had bolstered confidence. Finlay Wild, in particular, had not only appreciated the content of Northern Horizons but also clearly understood my intent, my passion for our wild places and the ethos which guided my approach. Northern Horizons was never intended to be a guidebook in the traditional sense, and it seemed those judging the many submissions received by the Banff Mountain Film and Book Festival similarly appreciated what I had set out to achieve in its writing.

Arriving in Canada and finally in Banff itself, the scale of the occasion was immediately apparent. Set apart but intrinsically woven into the town and the surrounding mountains, here was a global community of individuals happiest at the sharp end of the rope, alone on the ice, sailing in the most demanding seas – people whose achievements will no doubt continue to inspire all who find themselves drawn to adventurous endeavour. Where, at other similarly staged events, it might seem that the focus of the majority is singularly upon the few whose exploits have been documented to great acclaim, here, those protagonists were the majority. The energy, barely contained by the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity, was palpable. And the easy welcome, curiosity and interest extended by so many incredibly talented people to their peers proved to be a heart-warming experience. 

Running over Sulphur Mountain on my first morning seemed a good way to acclimatise both physically and mentally to my surroundings. Crossing the Bow River, a bald eagle passed above as though in welcome and high upon the hill, among thinning pines from which lichen hung in thickly matted green fronds, I stood in deep snow staring out across the Rockies. It was at once sobering and a joy to sense the vast scale of these wild mountains and the life they contain. More sobering still was the encounter with a Grizzly in the valley below; a huge head and dark eyes locked with mine for one moment that remains frozen in my mind’s eye.

And so, the scene was set for the awards presentation. A brief rehearsal, tightly packed auditorium, bright lights and big screen all narrowed into sharp focus as I spoke in acceptance, before reading a message I had received that morning from a friend in the UK. He had returned home from a week of foul weather and hard running in Sutherland, writing to thank me for inspiring his journey north and the connection he had found there with his late father, immersing himself in the landscape that had stirred each of us in turn. His words spoke to all I could have hoped to achieve in writing Northern Horizons, the sentiment clearly resonating with those gathered to celebrate the varied works of the authors who took to the stage that night.

What a privilege it was too, to spend time with those larger-than-life characters that typify this world of extremes in which we find our place, that sense of belonging and rightness regained. Presentations by the likes of Guy Robertson and Hamish Frost on The Great Mixed Climbs of Scotland – whose climbing, photography and writing will need little by way of introduction to many – added depth and not a little colour to an already lively programme, giving focus between brief meetings with others whose exploits I first read about so many years ago: Barry Blanchard, Lynn Hill and many more – too many to name here. And in this rarified atmosphere, I gradually found myself at ease, surrounded as much by like-minded souls as by those rightly regarded as legendary figures among their contemporaries.

Without doubt, it was an experience that will be difficult to surpass, and on leaving Banff, with the long miles of the Trans-Canada highway falling behind and the Rocky Mountains receding to form a low sunlit horizon, it might have seemed to be the end of the road. But at so many points I have thought the work was done, that I might lay down my pen, or rather, close the laptop one final time. I have been wrong on every occasion. Between book signings, festival readings and now awards, new doors have continued to open with every step of the journey. And it appears that the journey remains far from over. 

How long ago it seems since I first spoke with the Scottish Mountaineering Press team, and how much I have learnt from them in the years that have followed. There is little doubt in my mind that Northern Horizons would have been that much less without their guiding counsel, and that far fewer doors would have opened, opportunities constrained with no way of knowing what might have been. What has seemed surreal at times has become a continually humbling experience for which I am hugely grateful. 

And so, while that sense of imposter syndrome remains diminished, I returned home with no illusions about the magnitude of the challenges overcome by so many of those whom Northern Horizons has led me to meet, their accomplishments dwarfing anything I claim. And that is as it should be – the achievements of our peers opening our eyes to what remains, the possibilities that lie ahead.