"Because it's there."



Above certain altitudes, there is a statistical probability of death. Above certain altitudes, there is little or no margin for error from the effects of HAPE and hypothermia. On certain peaks and routes, there are predictably heightened odds of encountering bad weather, rockfalls, avalanches or other potentially life-threatening events.

Those who calculate the odds correctly, survive. Those who don't, receive Darwin Awards. Calculated risk-taking, by definition, means knowing the odds.


There's an old piece of wisdom among sailors. It goes:
Q: When's the best time to reef ( for non-sailors, to reef a sail means to reduce or take in sail in the face of storm conditions)?
A: The first time you think of it.


Similarly, among aviators:
There are old pilots and there are bold pilots but there are no old, bold pilots.


Preaching to the choir, here.

And there's far more probability of me getting whacked by an auto when on my bike than me being hurt on a trip in the mountains. Odds might be even, when paddling the canoe.
 
Watched Globe Trekker on PBS. On the Canary Islands. The use of vaulting poles
to hike Caldera de Taburiente at La Palma, looked interesting. The showed the fault
that has split the island. And mentioned the tsunami that might result someday.
The pics were spectacular. Brought some of your trek pics to mind....

Wiki quote-

The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC2 Channel) transmitted “Mega-tsunami; Wave of Destruction”[5], which suggested that a future failure of the western flank of the Cumbre Vieja would cause a "mega-tsunami."
I'll have to see if I can catch a rerun. I shy away from TV, but someone always reminds me that this kind of stuff exists, too.
Smoke from forest fires. Mostly lightening strikes that started the fires.



It's just not that healthy outside. There's talk of cancelling the start of the Fireweed 400 cycling race if the air doesn't get better.

So of course, I grille outside this evening to add more crap to the air, but kept the heat out of the house.

That's not quite as bad as smoke from burning fuels and plastic and stuff.

Damn, Perg, eluded me again.

SonofaBITCH! I hate it when I miss you. You have my email address?

Yes, Atmas is located in the Pyrenees. Tomorrow the race with end there, and is considered the first real foray into the mountains (today's several cat. 4 and one cat. 3 climb don't compare to cat. ones and the hors categorie climb at the finish).
Whether the Texan deserves respect for his experience alone or for his strength will be demonstrated.
Oh, wait. The race finishes in Arcalis, not Atmas.

Perg has referred to the use of a velocipede through the mountains as "aid climbing." As such he demonstrates his inexperience with the effort involved in riding a bicycle up a hill for 50 kilometres...such as tomorrow's finish.
I should catch a stage or two. No thread this year, even.

I might submit that "aid climbing" ain't necessarily 1) pejorative, or 2) easy.
you guys dance with Death too often

still, at least you're living life to the nth degree while you're doing it. I'm happy as a bystander, watching and wondering.
The notion of some sort of vastly increased risk of death is exaggerated. That's what the rope is for.
Breche de Roland

A deep defile in the crest of the Pyrenees, some three hundred feet in width, between two precipitous rocks. The legend is that Roland, the paladin, cleft the rock in two with his sword Durandal, when he was set upon by the Gascons at Roncesvalles.

Then would I seek the Pyrenean breach
Which Roland clove with huge two-handed sway.

Wordsworth.

Does factmonster have the facts?
Christ, that would be one helluva a sword blow.


Above certain altitudes, there is a statistical probability of death. Above certain altitudes, there is little or no margin for error from the effects of HAPE and hypothermia. On certain peaks and routes, there are predictably heightened odds of encountering bad weather, rockfalls, avalanches or other potentially life-threatening events.

Those who calculate the odds correctly, survive. Those who don't, receive Darwin Awards. Calculated risk-taking, by definition, means knowing the odds.


There's an old piece of wisdom among sailors. It goes:
Q: When's the best time to reef ( for non-sailors, to reef a sail means to reduce or take in sail in the face of storm conditions)?
A: The first time you think of it.


Similarly, among aviators:
There are old pilots and there are bold pilots but there are no old, bold pilots.


Preaching to the choir, here.

And there's far more probability of me getting whacked by an auto when on my bike than me being hurt on a trip in the mountains. Odds might be even, when paddling the canoe.

What Thor said. Above certain altitudes, you trade the likelihood of cholera, dengue, West Nile, H1N1 and malaria for the likelihood of HAPE and HACE. You trade the likelihood of a car accident for the likelihood of a fall. You trade the likelihood of a random mugging for the likelihood of an avalanche. You trade the likelihood of hypothermia for, well, hell, a whole lot more people get hypothermic in NH every year than in Colorado. Etc.
 
... What Thor said. Above certain altitudes, you trade the likelihood of cholera, dengue, West Nile, H1N1 and malaria for the likelihood of HAPE and HACE. You trade the likelihood of a car accident for the likelihood of a fall. You trade the likelihood of a random mugging for the likelihood of an avalanche. You trade the likelihood of hypothermia for, well, hell, a whole lot more people get hypothermic in NH every year than in Colorado. Etc.
I'm not especially concerned about dengue fever, cholera or malaria ( while the U.S. is well on its way to becoming a third world nation, it's not there— yet ).

You'll get no argument from me. While I don't profess to know the precise figures, I'd be willing to bet that it's safer to be on a small sailing vessel in the middle of the damn ocean than it is driving on I-95. It's certainly easier on the psyche.

Out there, only two things can kill you: fire and freighters. It's always land that creates hazard; blue water is safe. It's making the landfalls that get folk in trouble.

I'm an old guy— age snuck up on me while I was doing other stuff. Speaking of NH, I'll never forget the impression all the signs at the base of Mt. Washington made on me when I was a youngster and first climbed it. An astonishing number of people have died on Mt. Washington; over the years, it's on the order of a couple hundred people. People think of it as a benign 6,288' or 1,917 meters thus making a potentially fatal mistake.

 
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I'm not especially concerned about dengue fever, cholera or malaria ( while the U.S. is well on its way to becoming a third world nation, it's not there— yet ).

You'll get no argument from me. While I don't profess to know the precise figures, I'd be willing to bet that it's safer to be on a small sailing vessel in the middle of the damn ocean than it is driving on I-95. It's certainly easier on the psyche.

Out there, only two things can kill you: fire and freighters. It's always land that creates hazard; blue water is safe. It's making the landfalls that get folk in trouble.

I'm an old guy— age snuck up on me while I was doing other stuff. Speaking of NH, I'll never forget the impression all the signs at the base of Mt. Washington made on me when I was a youngster and first climbed it. An astonishing number of people have died on Mt. Washington; over the years, it's on the order of a couple hundred people. People think of it as a benign 6,288' or 1,917 meters thus making a potentially fatal mistake.


I just saw an article about dengue spreading to the US as the climate changes. But generally, of course, you're right. And I definitely feel safer out at sea than on any section of I-95, especially the chunk through SE CT and NY.

You're spot on about my beloved Mt Washington. I think it's killed as many as my current local death magnet, Mt Hood. I just had dinner with a guy who was one of the students on the famous tragedy back in the eighties when 9 people died. If you want a great read about some of the Mt Washington horror stories, Nicholas Howe's book Not Without Peril is excellent. One of my colleagues is working on a book about SAR in NH as well. He was interested in using some pictures I took on a rescue on Franconia Ridge back in '05. I don't think he did, but it would have been cool to have the photo credits.
 
Looking for statistics, and I found this:

Outside Magazine, March 2007

Dispatches: The Big Idea
Hood-Winked
The loss of a climbing party last winter raised a mountain of questions. Namely: What was all the fuss about?

By Dennis Lewon

climbing accidents
Illustration by Matt Mahurin


Podcast Version:
Listen Download

THREE CLIMBERS FAILED to return from an ascent of Mount Hood last December, and after two weeks of nonstop news, we knew these things to be true: The mountaineers had been hit by a severe storm; they likely had died up there; and, aside from the media frenzy, there was simply nothing remarkable about the incident.

Before you dismiss me as a coldhearted jerk, and with apologies to the families and friends of the deceased, consider this: What occurred on Mount Hood was a routine mountaineering accident, yet it somehow generated almost 1,000 newspaper articles in December alone, and flooded network and cable news shows with a nearly continuous loop of interviews with tearful kin and stoic rescuers. It was a high-altitude Amber Alert, the facts and spirit of which were neatly summed up by the New York Post's screaming front-page headline: DEATH ON THE MOUNT. By comparison, the search for Sue Nott, one of America's most prominent mountaineers, and her climbing partner, Karen McNeill, of New Zealand, who disappeared on Alaska's Mount Foraker last May, went almost unnoticed by the national media. Google, the last word in what the world cares about, says interest in the Hood incident outpaced the one on Foraker by about 1,000 to one. Similarly, the search for Christine Boskoff and Charlie Fowler, two elite American climbers whose disappearance in China coincided with the search on Hood, faded behind the live updates from Oregon.

To be fair, the Mount Hood incident had a few things going for it. There was the pre-holiday news vacuum. And the nation was primed for tales of domestic wilderness disaster by the search for James Kim—a Californian who took a fatal wrong turn on a family road trip—which had ended in Oregon just days before officials received word that someone was stuck in a snow cave on Hood.

Admittedly, it was refreshing to see mountaineering displace Britney Spears's divorce proceedings in the national consciousness, at least for a few days. But as one week turned into two—and newscasters were forced to fill the air—cracks in the reporting started to show. "I was amazed at the coverage," says Christopher Van Tilburg, an Oregon physician who works on about ten search-and-rescue operations each year and was involved in those on Hood. "I was interviewed by CNN, CBS, local news. But they focused on things like the wind. It's always windy up high."

A few gaffes explaining an alpine accident to the sedentary set were understandable, but soon the sensationalism took over. Many news outlets began questioning the safety of mountaineering itself, as if it were right next to grizzly wrestling on the riskometer. (Here's some perspective: Oregon's Office of Emergency Management has to save mountaineers about as often as it does mushroom pickers—3.4 and 3 percent of rescues, respectively, in 2005. Let's give those chanterelle hunters some personal locator beacons!) ABC's Good Morning America ran a "how to survive in a snow cave" clip, as if the audience might need to build one on the way to the store. Then came the inevitable blowback: Why the heck were these guys climbing in winter? Why should taxpayers foot the bill for the rescue? Fox's Bill O'Reilly brought Outside executive editor Michael Roberts on his show, complained about how his tax dollars were being spent on "thrill seekers," and suggested that Oregon close down Mount Hood in winter.

Bill, you listening? There's a reason this country established the world's first national park, and it wasn't to jump-start the postcard business. Self-reliance in the wilderness is part of our national heritage. We don't need to close trails; we need to encourage more people to use them. As for cost, mountain rescue is a bargain compared with the $730 billion outdoor recreation pumps into the economy each year. And 90 percent of search-and-rescue personnel are volunteers who provide their own equipment and training. When military helicopters are called in, the operations usually double as training missions and are thus covered under existing budgets. Plus, charging victims, as some suggest, would just make people more hesitant to call for help, leading to costlier missions and more deaths.

Can climbing in winter be dangerous? Of course, just like driving can be (12 people died in traffic accidents in Oregon during the 12-day search on Hood). By all accounts, the three men—Kelly James, 48, and Brian Hall, 37, of Dallas, and Jerry Cooke, 36, of New York City—were competent mountaineers. "My concern is that people will think he was some yahoo from Texas who didn't know what he was doing," says James's friend Kevin Knight. "He's been climbing mountains for 25 years and climbed Denali, Rainier, and Aconcagua." Both James and Hall were preparing for Everest.

There was only one thing missing from the breathless coverage on Mount Hood: a real story. No firsthand accounts and—given the 24-hour news networks' appetite for anything, as long as it's happening right now—no chance for perspective. What happened can be summed up in a few short sentences: Three experienced climbers attempted to ascend Mount Hood by a difficult route in a difficult month. A ferocious storm prevented the team from descending and kept search-and-rescue teams at bay. All three men died. "It was just bad luck," says Van Tilburg.

Hidden within those spare details lies real drama, to be sure. But that tale, like so many others, died with the only ones who could tell it. So instead of three-dimensional characters and tough reporting and storytelling—the stuff of true mountaineering classics—all we got was alpine rubbernecking. I'd rather pass on by, without staring.

Oregon S&R in 2005
Activity Percent of Missions*
1. Motor Vehicles** 20.5
2. Hiking 13.8
3. Wandering*** 10.1
4. Hunting 9.4
5. Boating 6.4
6. Suicide 5.5
7. Swimming 4.2
8. Fixed-wing Aircraft 3.7
9. Climbing 3.4
10. Mushroom Picking 3.0



Out of 566 total*
Includes ATVs and snowmobiles**
Defined as "hiking without a fixed destination"***

Source: Oregon Office of Emergency Management




Senior editor DENNIS LEWON was on Mount Hood in December 2003 but turned back because of a snowstorm.
 
100 years!

That's a good go!

http://media.adn.com/smedia/2009/08/12/23/433-4616080.25361.original.standalone.prod_affiliate.7.jpg

"The man who pioneered one of the most difficult and classic routes up Mount McKinley, opening the door to more technical and challenging climbs on North America's tallest peak, died at the age of 100 last week in Italy.

Riccardo Cassin, credited with a hundred first ascents from Alaska to the Himalayas, died last Thursday at his home in Piani Resinelli, a town north of Milan at the foot of the Alps.

The Cassin Ridge, the route he and five other Italians blazed up Denali's south face in 1961, bears his name. Until he came along, a southern ascent of the 20,320-foot mountain did not seem possible.

"What he did on the Cassin was years ahead of its time," said Brian Okonek of Talkeetna, who has worked as a guide on McKinley. "He took the techniques he learned in the Alps and went to the Alaska Range with them. He really pushed the standards.

"... It went a step beyond the type of technical climbing being done in the Alaska Range at the time. Once that door had been opened, people realized the potential and more and more hard climbs began being done."

Cassin's ascent up the steep, rocky, icy southern face made headlines when the party returned. President John F. Kennedy, a fan of mountaineering, sent a telegram congratulating Cassin and his party for their achievement.

"He was actually supposed to come visit me," Cassin said at age 99 during an interview with climbing.com. "But then the Bay of Pigs incident happened, and he had to stay."

Dave Johnston, who made headlines himself in 1967 when he and two others became the first to summit McKinley in the winter, remembers hearing about the climb when it happened and later reading about it in Life magazine. He still marvels over Cassin's bold and beautiful route.

"Oh my gosh, it's still a big deal," Johnston said. "It's the classic route on Denali. It's got probably the most beautiful line, just straight up the south face. The granite is excellent. It's got everything."

The route is basically a straight, steep line that Cassin and his group followed from the east fork of the Kahiltna up to what's called the Kahiltna Notch.

Most climbers on the route today bypass the rocky lower part of the route and instead start by going up the ice-filled Japanese Couloir, Okonek said.

"It's steep but straight-forward ice climbing. Cassin's route starts with a much more difficult rock climb," he said.

And today's Cassin Ridge climbers usually descend via the West Buttress route, Okonek said. Cassin and the other Italians went down the same challenging, technical route they came up, rappelling part of the way down.

"People very seldom come down that way now. Only if the weather pushes them down," Okonek said.

In the climbing.com interview from a year ago, Cassin described his McKinley adventure:

"Well, as with all my routes, I tried to find the most logical route, the least dangerous, and the one I was convinced I could finish without danger. (Don) Sheldon, the famous American pilot, sent me some pictures of the mountain from which I chose the way I wanted to go up, and then I did it.

"I did not know where the mountain was, but I knew there was a problem to be solved -- how to get on top of this imminent peak left undefeated by so many Americans beforehand. By the time the airplane took us to base camp, I had looked at the pictures so many times I had to correct Sheldon, because he landed at the wrong camp."

Cassin made his own pitons and started a climbing equipment company that still does business in Italy.

He was remembered in Italy this week as a man who helped transform mountaineering from a romantic 19th century challenge into a highly technical sport.

As a young man in northern Italy, Cassin began work as a blacksmith in the town of Lecco on Lake Como. Sunday outings with friends in the nearby mountains sparked his love for climbing over a six-decade career.

He and his companions were known as the Ragni di Lecco, "the Spiders of Lecco." They went on to pioneer daring routes that are still used today to climb some of the world's most treacherous peaks. The most memorable of all his first ascents was the climb up Denali's southern ridge.

Cassin continued to climb until the late 1980s, totaling around 2,500 ascents."
 
Family wants better trail signs after Mount Marathon death

This is a short blurb in today's ADN.com I was going to post it my Anchorage thread because I normally post local Alaska stuff there, but I decided it would be best posted here. It seems that some tourist took a fall on Mt. Marathon down in Seward and he died. I'm sorry to read that this happened but I do not think that we need to be posting a bunch of signs there. The trail goes up and comes back down. It's not that hard to find. It's Alaska, dammit! Watch your ass on the mountain!

" SEWARD -- A Minnesota doctor has died of injuries suffered in a fall at Mount Marathon and the man's brother wants Seward to post more signs on the trail to warn climbers.

KTUU said 49-year-old Joe Hengy suffered multiple injuries Sunday, but it was the head injury that ultimately claimed his life Wednesday. He cart-wheeled off a cliff near the bottom of the mountain.

Joe Hengy's brother Matt wants to meet with city officials about putting signs on the trail to direct those unfamiliar with the mountain to the safest way down.

Seward's Fire Chief David Squires talked with Matt Hengy and said the concerns will be discussed. Squires said city staff, police and fire officials will be involved in the discussions.

Squires said just two people have died on the mountain in the last 25 years, although there have been numerous injuries.

The Hengy family says two is too many."

Story with comments.
 
The words of great climber George Leigh Mallory, asked by a reporter why he wanted to climb Mt Everest. perhaps the most famous quote ever on climbing, and certainly the one that gets the most play among non-climbers.

In this thread, I will attempt to answer your questions about the craft of moving on technically challenging terrain in the mountains. Rock, Ice, Snow, Altitude...what do you want to know?

I started rock climbing a little over ten years ago, actually the week of the Oklahoma City bombing, by taking four days of lessons with other litsters and great friends atmas and HungryJoe. I started ice climbing maybe a year or two later, and I've been hiking all my life; I've climbed some technical snow and some high stuff. I certainly don't know it all, but I like it, and I like to talk about it.

Ask away.


you have a repulsive avatar, an interesting mind and a killing sense of humor.
always wanted to say it. there now, what a relief
 
This is a short blurb in today's ADN.com I was going to post it my Anchorage thread because I normally post local Alaska stuff there, but I decided it would be best posted here. It seems that some tourist took a fall on Mt. Marathon down in Seward and he died. I'm sorry to read that this happened but I do not think that we need to be posting a bunch of signs there. The trail goes up and comes back down. It's not that hard to find. It's Alaska, dammit! Watch your ass on the mountain!

" SEWARD -- A Minnesota doctor has died of injuries suffered in a fall at Mount Marathon and the man's brother wants Seward to post more signs on the trail to warn climbers.

KTUU said 49-year-old Joe Hengy suffered multiple injuries Sunday, but it was the head injury that ultimately claimed his life Wednesday. He cart-wheeled off a cliff near the bottom of the mountain.

Joe Hengy's brother Matt wants to meet with city officials about putting signs on the trail to direct those unfamiliar with the mountain to the safest way down.

Seward's Fire Chief David Squires talked with Matt Hengy and said the concerns will be discussed. Squires said city staff, police and fire officials will be involved in the discussions.

Squires said just two people have died on the mountain in the last 25 years, although there have been numerous injuries.

The Hengy family says two is too many."

Story with comments.
Oh, I love this shit. Years ago when a couple dopes skied past like thirty avalanche warning signs and got killed in an avalanche, the family sued because there weren't enough warning signs. Because everyone knows that if there had been just a couple more, those people would still be alive.
you have a repulsive avatar, an interesting mind and a killing sense of humor.
always wanted to say it. there now, what a relief

Ahhh...repulsive? Thank you for the rest. Very kind of you. Your avatar is far from repulsive, and I've always found you entertaining as well.
 
Oh, I love this shit. Years ago when a couple dopes skied past like thirty avalanche warning signs and got killed in an avalanche, the family sued because there weren't enough warning signs. Because everyone knows that if there had been just a couple more, those people would still be alive.

The bottom of the trail, in Lowell Canyon, might need an informative sign, but I don't want any signs on the mountain. There's no parking lot. Next thing, people will want a handicap ramp up to the summit.
 
The bottom of the trail, in Lowell Canyon, might need an informative sign, but I don't want any signs on the mountain. There's no parking lot. Next thing, people will want a handicap ramp up to the summit.

Exactly. I don't want my hand held. I want to define risk and adventure on my own terms, based on my own skill and knowledge and judgment, and if I fuck up, I want to self rescue or die.
 
Exactly. I don't want my hand held. I want to define risk and adventure on my own terms, based on my own skill and knowledge and judgment, and if I fuck up, I want to self rescue or die.

I've hiked that trail. One son has raced it. My mom hiked it, my grandma hiked it, my uncle raced it, my grandpa hiked it, etc............
 
They all survived, I take it? No need for warning signs?

Mom scraped her ass on the slate once. She was sliding down the snow and the snow ended........

no signs required...

But then, the race wasn't as famous as it is, now.....it's one of the most difficult 5k's around.
 
Mom scraped her ass on the slate once. She was sliding down the snow and the snow ended........

no signs required...

But then, the race wasn't as famous as it is, now.....it's one of the most difficult 5k's around.

Poor mom!

It looks like a helluva run.
 
...Next thing, people will want a handicap ramp up to the summit.

I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
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I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
I will not bring up politics.
 
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