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The Pursuit of Happiness | Sawtooth Mountains, ID United States | 05/27/09, by FreeheelGirl

jamie pierre 255 feet cliff

What is your level of acceptable risk?  This is a question that we answer with every backcountry decision.  When Shane McConkey died earlier this year, many commenters on this site felt that he died a hero doing what he loved.  Others felt that his death was a selfish waste.  I suspect that most of us feel something inbetween.

Throughout the summer, we encourage YOU to put some thought into the question of risk and write an essay outlining your logic.  We would like to publish a varitey of opinions to encourage thoughtful conversation.  What did you learn from Shane?

This first essay was written by a backcountry skiing, fun loving nurse in Idaho.  Please send your essays to shannon@skiingthebackcountry.com.    
 

shane mcconkey

All men are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

-Thomas Jefferson, Declaration of Independence, 1776


"Life is a fatal adventure. It can only have one end." -Alexander Eliot


"To die will be an awfully big adventure." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

This fall, I went to no less than three backcountry film festivals, and turned down a few chances to check out some extreme snowmobiling and extreme whitewater flicks.  Like everyone else in the theater, I had a really good time checking out all the thrilling ski porn - intrepid folks hucking off huge cliffs and skiing dreamy, endless powder shots on the craziest slopes in the world.  Just as cold weather and the first flakes of the winter were starting to descend on Boise, visions of outrageous backcountry skiing filled my head, and I vowed that this was going to be the best ski season ever!

Then I went to the Ski & Mountain Trauma Conference in Sun Valley, and got reminded of why I don't BASE jump, or ski off cliffs (or at least, nothing taller than 15' or so, when conditions are good.)  I'm not willing to accept the risks inherent in an otherwise fascinating activity. 

And this brings me to the heart of this editorial - my constant internal struggle with risk vs. reward.  Are extreme sports worth the hazards to life and limb?  Should we reward extreme athletes by showering them with fame, money, sponsorships and all those accolades of "hero" and "maverick", or should we acknowledge their accomplishments with sidelong stares and remind them of their real debts to the people around them?  (You know, the ones who support their "pure" lifestyles - the spouses, the rescue crews, the insurance companies, the families, the hospitals, the nursing homes and the government-sponsored indigent funds...) Should we laud amateurs who hurt themselves in the pursuit of their own personal happiness?

I'm ambivalent. I have strong opinions about both sides of this dilemma, and no way to resolve them.  One the one hand, I love adrenaline - if anyone needs to see a resume of my jobs and hobbies, or my scars, I'd be happy to oblige. 

On the other hand, my most recent career is in health care, and I get to see what happens to the less-gifted athletes out there when they gamble and fail. This month, one of my patients was an extreme winter sports athlete who permanently injured himself while filming a movie.  Trust me when I say that there ARE things that are worse than death - quadraplegia and permanent brain injuries come to mind - and then there's death itself.  How many articles did you read this winter about skiers (or boarders, or sledders) killed in falls or avalanches?

On the other other hand - a life without risk would be dull, indeed. More people die every year from diseases related to heart disease and obesity than will EVER die from extreme sport accidents. Surely, junk food and sedentary lifestyles are much more dangerous to our collective health than hanging around the terrain park?

On the other, other, other hand - injuries are heinous and costly, in a thousand different ways.  Hospitalization and health care cost money, and if you're uninsured, that cost gets paid by those of us who dutifully go to our boring jobs every day and pay taxes that cover Medicare & Medicaid, and outrageous insurance premiums that cover the cost of treating indigent patients.  Emergency rescue?  Expensive, and the costs are often borne by the county/taxpayers, rather than the victim.  Permanently injured?  Well, afer you run through your insurance money, if you have any, your care will again be provided by government agencies, paid for by the rest of us.  If you have a family, forget about providing for them while you're laid up, or after you die - you've just shoved that responsibility on someone else.  If you don't, who gets to tell your parents that you died in an avalanche, or that you'll be needing a ventilator or a babysitter for the rest of your life?  Is five minutes of adrenaline worth being disabled for the rest of your life?

Sponsored athletes get paid lots of money to take risks, and do so willingly.  The famous ones have health care, fame, money, and hopefully, expert help to assess risks and be on standby in case of an accident.  Some - some!- have support networks in case of failure.  But me - I go outside at my own risk.  And after a lifetime of taking risks, I've learned that what really raises the hair on the back of my neck is a lack of knowledge about potential hazards.  I don't ski or boat with people who won't take that extra minute away from their fun to scout a rapid or dig a pit.

Mountaineer Ed Viesturs' philosophy is that 'going up is optional, coming back is mandatory'.  If I know that I might not survive the next hazard, how can I enjoy the activity?  Assessment is key....if I'm aware of hazards, I can mitigate them, or walk away if my margin of error is too slim. 

So I guess what I'm arguing for is for all of us to stop flogging our adrenal glands for a few minutes, and really think about our goals when we're outside.  Hopefully, everyone's primary goal is to come home at the end of the day in one piece, and go out again tomorrow.  There are those of you who will argue that a life without risk isn't worth living - to which I have to reply that a life with risk is worth living, so it's paramount that we preserve our health when we pursue our favorite hobbies.  I'm tired of flinching when I see people taking huge falls on film, knowing that someone may have just traded a lifetime of fun for a lifetime of pain.  I'm tired of taking care of head injuries who can't remember how to dress themselves, but still sign autographs for fans rabid for more mayhem. 

Why don't we make more movies that celebrate the beauty of expert athletes at the peak of their crafts, like Sweetgrass Production's extraordinary "Hand Cut", rather than mayhem that keeps escalating into snuff-film territory?  Why don't we all get out there and seek out the perfect powder day, instead of the sickest jumps?  Why don't we enjoy the company of our friends, instead of just racing to do the most laps?  Why don't we all take a moment to just stop whatever we're doing, let our heart rates slow down, and think about what's really important?

Why don't we just go skiing?