Light Risk: A Study in Personal Responsibility

The Crash Test Librarian shared this article with me recently.  We discussed related issues, and I felt like it made sense to express the gist of that conversation here.  It’s relevant and timely coming on the heels of my big solo Grand Trip 

The article from earlier this month reports that the Grand County, Colorado search and rescue teams made the hard decision to leave the body of mountain runner Vincent Pane on Arikaree Peak where he had fallen to his death.  The author goes on to delve into the phenomenon of what he calls “light-and-quick” athletes trying to claim FKT on the L.A. Freeway traverse of Indian Peaks in Colorado as well as looking into the broader interest in such activities.

Pane had fallen—not on the L.A. Freeway route, but still traversing to the summit of Arikaree—and ended up in steep and unstable terrain, making recovery extremely dangerous for even the (presumably) highly trained search and rescue teams in the area.    

Storms rolling over Indian Peaks from Shoshoni

As I read the article I couldn’t help relate it to my own recent experience on Cloud Peak.  I was alone and in a remote area.  I was hyper-cognizant to my precarious situation.  One point the author made was that many of the light-and-quick folks go with little more than a water bottle and are not prepared for worst case scenarios. 

I went very light on Cloud Peak considering the situation.  I took a water filter and extra bladder, snacks for the day, a puffy jacket in addition to layers, and a headlamp.  My strategy was not to improve my speed as a primary effect, but simply to ensure my chances of success by preserving my precious fifty-year-old energy.  I knew any unnecessary and excess weight would sap my strength quicker, but I was also distinctly aware I was trading lighter weight for lighter security. 

My choices on that climb were complex, and some more intuitive than explicit.  If something and had happened on the mountain I hoped I would at least be able to return to camp where I had enough food, a good water source, and ample shelter.  It was close to a relatively well-travelled trail where aid would be slow but accessible.  That wasn’t my full emergency plan, but it was a factor in my planning.  Obviously, things can happen which would prevent me returning to camp, but for less serious incidents that was a distinct option.

To me, what is more important than what I carry in my backpack is what I carry in my head.  It’s experience and judgement that truly protect you.  The only thing I lack in that arena is confidence at times, but I know I know what to do in an emergency, or that I’ll figure it out.  As far as what would happen if I were to fall hundreds of feet down a cliff and die…I don’t worry about that.  I had left a detailed itinerary with my parents, with my daughter, and in my car which included expected times in and out of places where I had no cell service.  I researched the appropriate points of contact for each jurisdiction I was in and included a detailed description of my vehicle, my camping gear, and myself.  I made sure to carry my ID when I left camp.  There’s not much else you can do in case of a fatal mistake.  But like I said, I wasn’t concerned with fatal mistakes other than to do my best to avoid them.

My recent solo scramble to the top of Haystack Rock

Looking down the exposed and rounded
4th class section I had to downclimb

More than once, I considered the old adage: if you carry bivy gear you’ll end up bivying.  I was very cautious, not trying to break any records (or bones) and even still I knew my situation was precarious.  In the end my decision to go light was a strategy to balance the known with the unknown.

While on the climb I did consider the consequences of my decisions and any potential mistakes or incidents.  I typically make a point not to use the word “accident.”  I believe that word represents an unreal concept.  Most people consider accidents as something unavoidable and out of their control, but I believe that our choices lead us to every outcome.  I could have decided not to go to Cloud Peak and avoided any risk in that realm. 

I considered what a rescue or recovery of my person would entail.  I considered the impact to local SAR.  To my family.  To myself.  Despite exploring the graphical nature of those images in my head I pushed on through walls of doubt and fear to overcome the obstacle in front of me.

This article awakened many of those thoughts.  They weren’t new thoughts to me even on Cloud Peak.  These are things I’ve pondered my whole life.  Cloud Peak was really my biggest adventure.  I’d put myself farther from comfort and safety than I had at any other point in my life.

Falling from the summit of Cloud Peak was not an option

In considering the article, there was a strong sense of search and rescue members feeling as if the phenomenon of mountain runners was putting a strain on their resources.  I see that in the Red River Gorge as well.  Here it’s less glamourous and more often just day hikers who have gotten themselves into supposed trouble, but the impacts are similar.

My theory on this is that technology, and specifically internet capable smart phones, have lowered the barriers to entry for all outdoor activities.  Knowledge that would have taken years to develop prior to the internet is now available instantaneously to anyone minus the experience that goes with natural attainment.  People who would have never had the courage to venture into the woods are now tromping all around letting whatever outdoor app they downloaded direct them to overlooks, waterfalls, and alpine rock climbs without the critical problem-solving skills they need to keep themselves out of unreasonable danger.

Social media compounds this problem by luring people with the promise of dopamine hits to places that historically would have remained obscure and relatively unknown.  Geotagging and instantaneous feedback on logistical queries further accelerates the mutually assured destruction of the amateur recreationalist as well as the landscape they flock to.  

And then we consider the public perception of the Pane case.  Our movies and TV shows romanticize never leaving anyone behind.  The cold hard truth of human existence is that for thousands of years individuals have disappeared and decomposed without a trace.  It’s only in modern times that we exert absurd volumes of resources to rescue the hopeless and recover the unsavable.  I love the meme that mentions how much money the US has spent to save Matt Damon’s characters in three different movies (Saving Private Ryan, The Martian, and Interstellar).  It’s an interesting point to consider: if a lone human were stranded on Mars, what would be the justification for expending billions of dollars to save them?

Should Vincent Pane’s body rest in peace on the mountain he fell from?  Mount Everest is a giant icy tomb for many mountaineers.  Recovery of fallen climbers in the death zone is beyond difficult.  I agree with the principle that search and rescue operations should not endanger the rescuers.  There is always an element of risk, but when the likelihood of harm becomes overwhelming it’s time to make the hard decisions.

What worries me is that these kinds of things will end up causing more restrictions in the outdoors.  Public perception will be that these people (any outdoor enthusiasts) need to be saved from themselves.  It’s possible as a culture we’ll end up moving to a point where waivers are required everywhere, and you might have the option to waive the right to rescue if you choose to go beyond certain boundaries.

These stories can become high profile new items in our perpetual craving for excitement in the palms of our hands.  People get worked up when they hear a dead body can’t be recovered.  Some will rail against the adventurer for daring to impose on others while the flip side is people will complain government and land managers aren’t doing enough to prevent/promote such endeavors.

The best path to adventure truly is the old way: learning from a mentor or at least through a slow progression of trial and error, and not leaping fully formed from the trailhead into the unknown wilderness abyss.  I know the idea of the Boy Scouts is controversial these days, but the underlying purpose of such organizations was to educate young people in life and the outdoors, and it provided a structured and rich point of entry into many activities including rock climbing, paddling, hiking and even mountaineering. 

Not to be a blatant Luddite, but as a society we need to foster more hands-on learning overseen by those experienced in the outdoors.  We need to prepare people to thrive in the outdoors and be self-reliant, to not depend on technology for their confidence or their safety.  I’m not proposing an aesthetic choice, but truly a choice which will prevent a lot of the problems that are growing in the outdoor recreation realm every day.

My opinion is that this instantaneous access we have to information is crippling us.  As the Crash Test Librarian succinctly stated: “We totally lost the plot with the internet.”  There is a vast digital library of knowledge on the out there, but you have to plow through layers and layers of every stupid thing scratched on the digital bathroom stalls of the web since the dawn of our collective consciousness when Al Gore flipped the switch and turned it all on.

My attitude toward risk in the mountains (or elsewhere) is that I would rather live the life I want and face the potential of dying in harsh environments over laying on the couch pining for that life.  The world is big and terrible and amazing, and I want to see as much of it as I can while I’m here.  If I were to die in the mountains, I don’t see that as a tragedy.  It’s better to die happy, doing what you love, than wasting away unfulfilled or being killed by the machinery of society for less reason. 

Life is dangerous.  We aren’t immortal.  I could die on my way home from work.  I could die in my bed at night.  Life is short and fragile and precious—even more reason to live fully and accept the outcome of your own decisions.

As an addendum to the original post, I do want to clarify that I believe strongly in personal responsibility.  People need to take on outdoor adventures with full knowledge of their own capabilities and be willing to make hard choices themselves.  Do I sit out overnight and wait until daylight to find my way out, or do I call for SAR because I don't want to sit scared? 

I'm not saying I would never call Search and Rescue on my own behalf.  What I am saying is that I make every effort to not need SAR in the first place.  And I would do my best to self-rescue if I got into trouble.  Once I sprained my ankle hiking.  I was a mile from my car, and while not the worst sprain I've had, it was painful, and I had difficulty walking on it.  As I lurched and stumbled through the woods, I pondered who I could call to come lend a shoulder to help me get out.  In the end, I decided by the time someone could get to me I could also get myself out however uncomfortable and painful that might have been.  If I had broken my ankle or leg, I'm certain I would have made a different choice.  

That's not the only or first time I sprained an ankle while alone in the woods.  The first time was more dire in a sense.  I was trailrunning a few years ago on a steep and loose downhill and violently rolled my ankle.  I was about half a mile from my car with no cell service, no one knew where I was, and it was just before dusk in February.  I had to hobble out and drive my stick shift car home.  

Both instances have given me more awareness of the importance of letting someone know where I am and to be more careful with my own body when out alone.  They have also helped me delve more into my own beliefs on personal responsibility and consequence, and I stand by the things I've said.