When a mountain is named for someone, you’d expect the public to know all about the now-famous person.

But it doesn’t always work out that way.

Sometimes it takes detective work by a modern-day hero to uncover the virtues of someone who’s gone but should not be forgotten.

A 2,908-metre peak near Banff was named after James Wheeler Davidson in 1935. But somehow, the name was left off the official maps. The mountain is shown, but only as a nameless feature.

This historic oversight provided a rare opportunity for a group of modern-day pioneers to honour Davidson by carrying out the first documented climb of Mount Davidson on Aug. 2, 2003. I was lucky enough to be among the ones who reached the summit that day, and it’s an experience that I’ll never forget.

Photo courtesy of J.W. Davidson family
J.W. Davidson above, writing at his desk, was a guiding light for Rotary around the world.

James Wheeler Davidson, FRGS, was born in Austin, Minn., on June 14, 1872, and was a natural traveller and adventurer. By the age of 18, he was organizing and leading group tours. He was one of eight men selected from among 1,500 applicants to join then-Lieut. Robert E. Peary on his 1893/94 expedition across Greenland in search for a path to the North Pole. Davidson endured hardships, including a frozen foot which left him with a lifelong limp.

He soon moved to warmer but equally adventurous climes, holding U.S. consular appointments in Formosa, Manchuria and China. His Calgary period, which stretched from 1907 to 1931, saw accomplishments such as developing the CPR land around Beiseker and overseeing the growth of Crown Lumber to a thriving business with 52 locations.

He had a role in the construction of the Lougheed building, the founding of the Calgary Symphony and a key part in the formation of the Alberta Motor Association. He is credited with working for good roads emanating out from Calgary to as far away as Salt Lake City. He died in Vancouver in 1933.

Much of what we know about Davidson is courtesy of the diligent research of Red Deer-based physician, historian and Rotary Club member Dr. Robert Lampard, a former Calgarian himself.

Dr. Robert Lampard and Diane McDonnel perform a native ceremony on top of the mountain.

Lampard became fascinated, some would say obsessed, with uncovering Davidson’s life, especially his efforts in creating Rotary clubs in places where Rotary had no presence.

Often using his own resources, Davidson extended the Rotary ideal of “making new friends” in Canada, to Australia and New Zealand, and also to very difficult countries such as India, Burma and Thailand. In many places, Rotary was viewed with suspicion as “an American idea,” but Davidson’s charm and persistence led to the creation of 32 clubs in 15 countries. Paul Harris, the founder of the first Rotary club, called J.W. Davidson “the Marco Polo of Rotary.”

Not content to simply write about Davidson, Bob Lampard conceived the idea of actually climbing the mountain to honour him. He and his athletic 17-year old son Geoff scouted it several times, and could easily have bagged the summit, and a place in the record books, for themselves. Instead, they decided to share the experience with a group of Rotarians from clubs that Davidson had touched. This is where I came in, as a member of the Rotary Club of Calgary, over which he presided in 1919/20.

At our weekly meeting at the Palliser Hotel, the upcoming climb was announced and they called for a volunteer to join the expedition. My hand shot up, surprising me because my head didn’t really know what I was getting into. For all I knew, they might be just taking helicopters to the summit and I could be looking at a $2,000 flying bill!

Fortunately, I had the opportunity to walk all the way in to the base of the mountain in Geoff Lampard’s company, scout the best route and be there to greet the others who were arriving early on the morning of Aug. 2 by helicopter.

As a group, we made the scramble up the mountain in time to have a high-altitude Rotary meeting at noon. Of the 25 who set out that day, 24 made it to the top, and the other one got pretty close.

Significantly, the first member of the party to set foot on the summit was J.W. Davidson’s fiercely determined grandson, Don Abramson, who made the climb despite having sustained a serious hip fracture four months ago. Don’s two sons were also there for the ceremony, which included building a cairn and several Inukshuks, and burying a capsule containing Rotary banners and other memorabilia.

Making this climb corrected the historic oversight that had kept Davidson from his due as a great Albertan, and indeed a world citizen.

On a more personal level, it gave me a bird’s-eye view, not only of the spectacular mountain terrain, but of the human spirit.

Looking over the group of would-be summiteers, the helicopter pilot opined that “they’re not going to make it . . . there’s too much grey hair.”

They did make it, and in high style. J.W. Davidson would be proud – but probably not surprised. He knew what people can do when they put their minds to it.

Web watch:
www.jwdavidson.org
www.rotary.org