Appalachia, Summer/Fall 2007
An advocate for the Sandwich Range Wilderness talks about literature, chemistry, and the Hamlet complex.
Introduction: Making the World Right At age 88, George Zink remains an agitator. Says Zink, “I have the feeling that Hamlet expressed “The world is out of joint, oh! cursed spite that I was ever born to set it right.” I’m always saying, “That needs fixing. What can I do to fix it?”
Agitation is for naught, however, without persistence—and Zink has plenty of that, too. Those two forces, at play over decades, have made Zink a leading force in a variety of thoughtful stewardship policies for the White Mountains.
His tireless efforts are best known for leading to congressional designation of the Sandwich Range Wilderness in 1984. Known as the “Father of the Sandwich Range Wilderness,” Zink politely demurs about the title, preferring to share it with others who contributed to the designation.
Remarkably well read in both literature and the sciences, it is not uncommon to hear metaphors from literature interspersed with examples from science, woven together with an historical anecdote. Through it all, one senses the importance of community engagement with Zink, and an omnipresent enthusiasm. “I think the important thing is to find something that is meaningful for you and get involved,” he says.
To the great surprise of George alone, he was recognized by the U.S. Forest Service for his influence on many wilderness managers, young people, and volunteers when he was awarded the Forest Service Eastern Region “Individual Champion of Wilderness” in 2000.
But wilderness advocacy is only one part of his varied life. A teacher for more than 40 years, he helped to shape and influence countless lives. Trained to teach English, he found himself instead in a chemistry classroom. “English came easily, so I didn’t always empathize with the students’ needs. But in chemistry, with which I’d struggled as a student and never done very well, I could empathize with the kids.”
We talked with George at the home he, his wife, Sally, and his four children built. The house is filled with books and testaments to George’s love of mountains and his lifetime of being involved.
George Zink in his own words:
Early Years
My background is rather ordinary. Neither of my parents had gone to college.
My father hadn’t graduated from high school. But, they had a great love of learning.
Of course, that made a great difference in my life. I grew up in Ballard Vale, a rural community that is a section of Andover, Massachusetts, about five miles from the town center. It was in the country but not isolated. I was the second son. I have a brother four years older, and a brother two years younger. No girls, darn it!
We had a large vegetable garden. My mother canned vegetables and fruits to last through the winter. We raised chickens, ducks, pigs, and pigeons. My father raised pansy plants, which my younger brother and I marketed throughout the community, hauling the plants on our cart.
I was a loner. When I came home from school, I’d spend the whole afternoon out in the woods. There were miles of woods around then. So, I was an outdoor person from the earliest days. My father and I learned all the visible constellations, and borrowed the high school’s telescope to observe the moon and planets. I caught frogs and snakes that were housed in deep barrels, had an herbarium and a collection of butterflies and bugs. I loved to go out “hunting” with my bow and arrows. Just a regular country boy, I’d say.
I was a mediocre student, and I was unsuccessful in high school sports. I was small in high school, only about 5-foot-5-inches and weighed about 112 pounds. The only competitive sports were basketball and football, and a short, light, person isn’t going to be very good at either one. I was a master of nothing. But I always got involved and did my best.
Climbing with Fred
There was one man who was a strong influence on my early life, the Rev. Frederick B. Noss. Fred had a great interest in mountain climbing. He loved to be out-of-doors and he loved to hike. He was the minister of the church that sponsored the scout troop that I was in, and my family was very active in boy scouts. My brothers and I all became Eagle Scouts.
The first mountain I ever climbed was Monadnock, because we could get there easily from Andover. With Fred Noss, we usually hiked in the Sandwich Range. It’s the southernmost of the Whites, and the shortest drive from Andover.
Hiking was not a popular thing then, in the mid 1930s. But after a few visits, I really fell in love with the Sandwich Range. I never remember seeing other hikers. We almost always climbed by ourselves.
In those days, you didn’t go to EMS for hiking equipment—you built everything yourself. I built a pack rack myself, in about 1936. It had a tumpline. There were no little flaps or pockets to open to get out a map, or a hat. You’d carry everything in one duffle bag. I didn’t have to use the shoulder straps—I’d carry it simply with the tumpline, with all the weight on my forehead. Of course, that’s what the Indians did. We’d fasten the duffle bag to the pack rack with a diamond hitch. At that time, we considered it the epitome of comfort and convenience!
On one of our first trips, we climbed Mount Chocorua. It was December 31st. The temperature was below zero. In the morning, we’d often have bacon and eggs. The eggs would be frozen, so we’d crack the shell and pick the shell off, put the frozen ball in the fry pan and it would slowly settle down, melt, and become an egg! Marvelous.
On another occasion, my elder brother, a friend, and I made a two-week hiking trip. We started in Franconia Notch near the Flume, then Franconia Ridge, eastward to Crawford Notch, up Dry River, then northward over the Presidential Range. Next, over Pine Mountain to Gorham, where we bought supplies before traversing further. Across the Androscoggin [River], through the entire Mahoosuc Range to Old Speck. In Mahoosuc Notch, we found caves filled with ice. This was in September! We never met other hikers on that whole trip. I took several later trips in the Mahoosucs, one time with my father. It was, we felt, more primitive than the wildlands within the national forest.
Changes and Overcoming Challenges
I grew up in a family of all boys, close to nature, and a real individualist. However, I had a lot of drive.
My brother was at the University of North Carolina, so I went there for my undergraduate work. My brother told me that each fall at Chapel Hill, they had a two-mile cross-country race called the Cake Race. The person who wins that race becomes a “big man” in the college community. So, what did little George do? I started running a year before I went to Chapel Hill. I won the Cake Race my freshman year and set a new course record. I was so exhausted for a week that my stomach was tight. I couldn’t eat properly. I overdid it. It’s been my nature, and that has been my life. That’s the way I am.
One of the biggest changes in my life occurred when I was a senior in college. I began to sense that something was wrong. I was sweating, with pain in my side. I had an infection of the kidney. I had to withdraw from college and return home. At Lawrence General Hospital, they removed a kidney. They found a big cyst on it. I was in the hospital for a long while, recovering. Following the operation, the surgeon urged me to give up any thought of competitive wrestling, a sport that had become important to me. It was a severe blow, and I didn’t immediately decide to take the advice.
Meanwhile, a regular visitor to my hospital bed was Fred Noss. After my release from the hospital, a mutual interest in literature led to the suggestion that we do some reading together. He suggested that we begin reading Paradise Lost. We would read individually, and meet once a week to discuss what we had read. For the first time in my life, I began to understand how important a teacher can be to a young person. I now realize that year was a turning point in my life; my days of competitive wrestling were over. I had discovered teaching.
DOUG MAYER is trails co-chair of the Randolph Mountain Club and a member of the Board of Directors of the Waterman Fund. He lives in Randolph, New Hampshire.
REBECCA ORESKES is a staff officer of the White Mountain National Forest. She lives in Milan, New Hampshire, with her husband Brad Ray, their retired avalanche dog, Tuckerman, and cat, Trap.
The full text of this story may be found in the Summer/Fall 2007 issue of Appalachia.
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