Thursday, April 16, 2009

A Winter's Tale

Recently, my friend John Winship was caught in poor visibility, strong winds, freezing rain/snow and was missing for two days in New Hampshire's White Mountains. I asked him about his lessons learned and this is what he wrote (published with his permission). I think you'll find it meaningful and profound.

"Solo expedition to Mt. Rainier in May: Cancelled.
Solo expedition to Mt. Cook/NZ winter 2010: Cancelled.

Although I did not request a rescue, I know that the damage to my body would have been exponential with one more overnight. I have already made a gift to New Hampshire Fish and Game for double the estimated rescue cost. I have also commended them to Governor Lynch for their selflessness and heroism.

This had to happen. I was addicted. I have been pushing the envelope for two years with ever more audacious speed climbs. Last year I survived a slab avalanche on Washington and went on to summit on the same day. Even that experience wasn't enough to wake me up. Although I have promised my wife that I would never go higher than 18,000 feet, I know that at this rate I would have found myself on Everest or worse within three years.

So many armchair critics, and hindsight advice! I carried 90 pounds of gear up! One critic pointed out that snowshoes would have helped on Day 2, and I retorted that a kayak would have been ideal on Day 4! Another well-wisher asked why I did not have a phone and GPS. Apart from the unreliability of lithium above tree line, I pointed out that I might have been tempted, innumerable times on Day 2, to call for a rescue, thus needlessly endangering strangers, when clearly I had the power to get out on my own. That person then had the temerity to reply, "But that's their job." To which I said, "Dying for me is not their job."

The critics have a difficult time comprehending (1) the ethos of self-reliance inherent to the solo alpine style; (2) the calculus of risk, error, and severe consequences in our risk-adverse society; and (3) the fact that being "lost" has a novel, unfamiliar definition for alpinists. I was only "lost" for the three hour duration through which I had been executing an unworkable plan, because I was not where I thought I was. The problem for speed climbers is that "getting lost" usually means getting lost big. At my pace, I had passed a point of no return far too quickly. Once I fully comprehended my peril, I made several adjustments to plan, and made a severe attempt to get out of Dry River Valley (and nearly died in the attempt) before conceding defeat and deciding instead to mixed-climb down the river.

I have the solace of knowing that no one was hurt rescuing me from my blunder. I will continue to day-hike, once I can feel my feet again, but no more pushing the envelope. I have too much to live for."

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