“The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.” — John Powell
Most of us are likely pretty sure that we recreate safely in the backcountry, whatever “safe” means to us and however it correlates with our personal risk tolerance. Most of us have probably found ourselves at one time or another smugly judging others who either made bad decisions in the backcountry or appeared to be totally uneducated. As an example, despite relatively stable snow conditions this winter, a very lucky guy from Missoula, MT was injured in an avalanche recently after he and his friend ventured out without gear, without digging a pit and without checking the weather or avalanche forecast. (You can listen to the interview of the injured guy here. It is very easy to judge these guys and everyone in the local ski community has been doing so for a week or more.
Most of us have also probably, though we may not want to admit it, found ourselves making dumb decisions that in retrospect invoke a “duh!” response. Then we scratch our heads wondering how it is we, who know better, could make bad and unsafe decisions. This happened to me last weekend when I went slack-country skiing with a bestie in a popular backcountry area outside the ski resort. I was completely and thoroughly exhausted from the two prior long days of backcountry ski touring and could barely lift my leg to do a kick turn. I was really dragging behind. My friend had the good idea that she would race ahead and essentially do a short lap until she reached me and then continue skinning up with me (we were in low-angle treed terrain with no signs of instability). Of course, somehow she misjudged where I was and I had no idea she was now behind me. I got up on the ridge, certain I knew where I was, and figured I’d hike to the end of the ridge then circle back in case she had somehow gotten behind me (there were lots of skin tracks which made it impossible to simply follow her tracks). Of course, it turned out the ridge was not the ridge I expected to find myself on and was pretty disoriented and confused. And alone. I had GPS so I would have been able to find my way, and I had a cell phone with service, but my buddy had neither.
I turned around, figuring there was no way my friend would have continued so far without waiting for me, and after about 30 or more minutes of intense stress, we found each other. After shrieking like reunited sorority girls, we gushed about what dumb-shits we both were and how we really need to do better in the future and have some well-communicated protocols in place. We were both mortified. How is it possible that we could have made bad decisions? We are smart and safe! We are better than others! Or not.
In hindsight there were at least several bad choices we made. My first was my decision to go out at all. A tired brain is a stupid brain. There is no place in the backcountry for stupid tired brains. Tired brains tend to have a distorted logic and, furthermore, tired bodies are more easily injured. The rest is pretty obvious. We should always stick together, no matter how popular the area or how close to the ski resort. I should have stopped and waited rather than wandering on the ridge. We shouldn’t have assumed we knew exactly where we were or that we knew where we were going. We shouldn’t have let complacency seep into what are otherwise conscientious psyches. Feel free to comment on all the other stupid things we did. It’s fun to point the finger because it makes us feel “above” the behavior. But it’s worth remembering that we too are mortals and can make dumb decisions. It’s only when things go wrong that we truly understand where we messed up and learn from it. Sometimes the exercise of being sucker-punched by our own foibles is the best education possible. Oh the shame though… So please, criticize and judge, but also share your own shameful story. We can also learn from others once we get over ourselves.
I like the title.
Very entertaining post, even for those of us who don’t know what “slack country” skiing is. Loved the line about “shrieking like reunited sorority sisters.” We got a bunch of snow in KC today, BTW.
Hi Barb! It’s backcountry but you ride the chair lift to access it so you don’t have to work too hard physically to get there. Thus “slack” country. But it’s still backcountry. Snow! You can XC ski in the park then! (With all your spare time).
sounds like fun!
I don’t really see any glaring errors here except maybe that you and your friend separated in the first place? As to your first paragraph, I have little tolerance for that smug judgey attitude that often comes out when someone is hurt in the backcountry. Yes, injuries usually are a result of human error. And of course it’s important to take as many precautions as possible. But no one is immune and no one is 100 percent safe.
Sometimes people are extra careless though in their decision making – but none or us have retrospectascopes.
None of us… iPad arg.
I’m no expert – for sure, and I often am complacent and just go. Whether skiing, running, field work, snowmobiling, or helicopters. But your raise great points and insight here. Good for you for taking the time to think about it AND report to others who could benefit from the reminder. I had a smaller reminder my first time backcountry skiing earlier this winter. I was new and didn’t know anything. I followed. Turned out I had less than ideal equipment – and that equipment failed. And I had nothing to fix equipment problems. We weren’t that far from the ski resort – by summer standards and shoes or boots, but by winter and several feet of snow and alpine ski boots and skis that no longer work – I was damn far away. Post holing with alpine boots over a mile would have been difficulty Other folks in the party were more prepared to help fix my skins. But you should not be wholly dependent on others. You should be self prepared. You should not assume everyone in the party is equally set up. You should not assume everyone has adequate abilities. You should not assume everyone ‘knows’ what they’re doing. Now, we weren’t that far out, but each step is an additional assumed risk. The more risk you assume – and ideally have well managed, the more the trip/group can not afford weak links. Everyone has to be up to snuff. So really, actually very small things that can occur, can all of a sudden be a very big deal. Pretrip, we should all study maps/aerial photos, and we should pack those. Carry a gps/compass. Duct tape (what I needed when my skins failed). Food. Lighter. Lighter. Lighter. You want to be really prepared carry some fire starter as well. I’ve thought lighters a lot on my trail runs – Here’s the scenario – by myself, 8 miles from the truck (won’t be seeing anyone else here), it’s cold, I’m wet with sweat and dressed light for running, and something happens like a broken ankle. A lighter could be a survival difference. (like a dummy, I still do not carry a lighter on longer runs).
Point is, we’ve got a lot of technology (from clothes to equipment) that can be give us a false sense of security and get us deeper and farther. But humans are actually pretty frail in a lot of environments and it’s all about understanding that exposure risk – and managing that risk by being prepared and being smart. And I agree – our brain is our most important tool.
I’ve got plenty of stories of getting lost. Once, I was so turned around – I actually did not believe by compass and thought it was somehow broke. But I literally had to force myself to put my full trust into the compass (it was tough). Good thing I did. Another time there were two of us. Somehow we were in the wrong drainage working our way back at near dark. I wasn’t paying attention enough (day dreaming), and the other guy was just simply following me (trusting I knew what I was doing). Eventually the topography wasn’t looking right and I figured it out, and had to try to figure out what happened, where we actually were, and where we needed to go to correct it.
A tragic story of a couple that skied out of bounds a few years ago in BC. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/story/2009/02/26/rescue.html
Thanks for the thoughtful comment Kent. I know who is partially responsible for your crappy backcountry skiing experience… I imagine you’ve had a lot of experiences getting turned around since you spend so much time out in the backcountry.
Pffft, this isn’t careless or stupid. Mistakes happen, you learned from it, no big deal. An example of careless and stupid is the guy I saw at a ski area yesterday. He was walking down the “easy” hill as I was riding the lift up. I asked him if he was OK and he said he was fine, that the slope was just above his ability so he was being safe and walking down. Seemed reasonable, until I saw him again later that day. Having found the “easy” slope too difficult, he’d made the logical leap of riding the “expert” lift and was at the very top of the mountain, struggling even more than before, with darkness closing in and lifts getting ready to shut down. We rolled our eyes and sent ski patrol to go get him. They likely had to toboggan him down in the middle of a low-vis storm. He already knew the easy slope was too hard for him; why in the world would he ride up to the expert side? Sometimes you just have to sigh.
Mostly, though, I think that the people who get in trouble in the backcountry just made a simple mistake which isn’t worth condemning them for. The people who talk on their cell phones while driving, and pay no attention to their surroundings on a daily basis are much bigger hazards to themselves in my opinion; and the backcountry folks at least don’t put others at risk for silly things.
Yikes on that guy… ski patrollers must deal with a lot of ridiculous stuff.
I agree on the second part completely.