Snell’s Field, the climbers’ camp outside Chamonix, France, was for 20-odd years a squalid (if free) conglomeration of makeshift rain shelters, tents and rolling wrecks typically populated by British, American and German alpinists, none of whom especially liked the others. When it rained in the Alps, which was often, the football-field-sized campground became a fetid bog. Wine by the cheap liter was the elixir for depression, anxiety and boredom. There were fights and police raids—the Brits were especially fond of pilfering from the Cham merchants. Sometime around 1990 the officials and townspeople had had enough and the place closed for good. In “Climbers’ Camp Chamonix,” first published in Ascent in 1972, John Svenson (an artist by trade) succinctly captures this madcap bygone era, with a sobering continuum.