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Life at the Extremes. Frances Ashcroft.
PAT BORAN
(Sunday Business Post)
Between the devil and the deep sea is one
well-known phrase, of nautical origin, which seems to describe
the experience of being exposed between perilous alternatives.
While the original actually referred to the varying level of
the waterline on board ship (the devil being the gunwale and
therefore the water's uppermost limit), its proverbial cousin
conjured danger and demons and, importantly, kept the notion
of a correct path between extremes in the mind's eye.
Nevertheless, just as successive generations of explorers and
adventurers have attempted to go beyond the Ultima Thule, the
furthest known place, as Virgil had it, the known but inaccessible
all around us has been an equal source of provocation. While
many have desired to climb to the top of the world's highest
mountains or soar into and beyond the earth's atmosphere, other
adventurers have walked down the road and, bearing a raw steak
and an egg, have spent fifteen minutes in an oven at 115 degrees
Celsius to emerge relatively unscathed, egg and steak well done.
In her first book for the general reader, Frances Ashcroft, a
Professor of Physiology at Oxford, and something of an adventurer
herself, looks into the physiology of what happens to people
in these various extremes of heat and cold, pressure and weightlessness.
Early on she gently corrects Dante for placing the circle of
ice below the circle of fire in his Inferno, but then, towards
the end of the book, introduces an organism which, confounding
previous ideas of what constitutes life, exists some 2.7 km below
the surface of the earth, without light or oxygen. And its name?
Fittingly, Bacilus infernus.
Despite such occasional references to literature, and to the
Bible in particular, Ashcroft's real subject is what actually
happens to the organs under the various pressures of bungee jumping,
deep-sea diving and dizzying ascent, rather than the matter of
how these have been described. In the course of the book we learn
that balloonists pass out at about 9,000 feet, while divers who
regularly go down below 200 metres face the invisible but very
real danger of bone collapse. We learn that many of our favourite
stories of convicts on the run hiding in lakes and breathing
through reeds are impossible at a depth of more than a metre
(due to pressure on the lungs). We also learn why we so often
need to pee as soon as we enter even a warm sea on holidays.
(The reduced pressure of the water causes a blood rush from the
feet and legs up to the heart, which in turn alters the level
of two hormones which 'influence water uptake by the kidney'.
So now you know.)
Would that all the fascinating information here were as amusing
and lightly approached. In her chapter Life in the Cold, Ashcroft
details the extraordinary and horrific scenes of the retreat
from Moscow in 1812 during which the freezing conditions provided
such a good anaesthetic that starving soldiers were able to butcher
their mounts for food and yet keep the horses alive. 'We saw
some of these poor horses walking for several days with large
piece of flesh cut away from both thighs,' she quotes one senior
sergeant of the 2nd Cuirassiers, though her own phrase for the
scene, 'the living larder' views the horror equally head on.
What makes this book such a pleasure to read and so stimulating
is the breath and depth (so to speak) of material and experience
covered here, Ashcroft's subject matter having fascinated the
ancients as much as the post-moderns. That altitude sickness,
for example, was first described by the Chinese in 32 BC is hardly
a surprise, though that it came in a book which tells of a journey
through a range which includes Great Headache, Little Headache
and Fever mountains is a wonderful detail. The fact that the
Incas used their own familiarity with the problem as a way of
escaping invaders reminds the rest of us, in our cosy comfortable
homes that, at least on occasion, a journey into the extremes
might well be what we need to stay alive.
© copyright Pat Boran
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