No Trophies Up Here: humility in the mountains

No one can say that weren't warned going above tree line on Air Line

There are no trophies in hiking. At least not like there are in competitive events, the sports that are on TV, or in the Olympics, or that we played in school. Yes there are the various peak bagging lists, and the patches or certificates for finishing them. But these modest tokens are not even as flashy as the trophies for winning in beer league softball. Mountain sports are different that way. They have no championships, no podiums, no medals. It is usually just you, your honor, your partners, and your own sense of accomplishment.

That does not mean that no one is keeping score. This is still a human endeavor. Between the multiple peak bagging lists, FKT's, first ascents, winter ascents, and other challenges we have ways of measuring our accomplishments in the hills. Ego and ambitions are not absent from those of us who play in the mountains rather than on a ball field. Most of us who climb have objectives in mind, peaks to reach, and goals we seek.

All those mile for a patch

These goals are almost incomprehensible to people who are not hikers or climbers. The incredulous question from some folks when I mention finishing the 48 White Mountain peaks is "you hiked all those miles for just a patch?" When the risk level is higher the lack of comprehension is greater too. "You've already climbed Mt. Washington, why would you do it in winter?" or "How could he/she leave their family just for a mountain, didn't they know it could be deadly?" "You do what with your kids? Don't you think that's dangerous?"

We know of course that climbing can be lethal. While it is easy to quote accident statistics, how it's more likely to die on the highway driving to the trail head than on the mountain, that is a blithe argument. The risk of death in the mountains is very real, and it is an overwhelming risk for the vast majority of people. Until 200 years ago that risk kept all but a very few lunatics from climbing the high mountains. The highest peaks are still fearsome places when the weather turns. Each of us who regularly play in the mountains do what we can to mitigate the risks. I often read and discuss incident reports with my son as a way of learning how mistakes occur, so that we can avoid those errors.  We train our selves physically. We equip properly. We go with experienced partners. We become students of the trails, terrain, and weather. We exercise the best judgement we can. 

The deadliest cue in the world, South Ridge Mt. Everest

However the risk always exists at some level in the mountains. This year has been particularly hard both in my local mountain range and further away. In the past week 11 people have died on Mt. Everest. While the pictures show a dangerously crowded route on the fair weather days, that is not the only reason for those deaths. When ambition outruns awareness and judgement in the mountains the outcome is often lethal. Too many people with too lofty goals and too little restraint at 8000 meters is a recipe for disaster. Locally we have also seen fatal accidents this season. Three people died in the White Mountains from December to April this year. Each was a very different sort of accident occurring to experienced people. While it can be easy to criticize the choices individuals made afterwards, their errors are ones that I can imagine most of us making. We shouldn't need helmets for walking the approach trail should we? Do we need to rope up now or can we a little climb higher? This slope almost never slides, I can ski it solo. Yet each of these simple mistakes led to someone's death this year. No matter how strong I feel I also realize that one slip resulting in a broken ankle or a quick accumulation of freezing fog and the mountain can become very serious.

The strength required to climb mountains is not only physical, but mental and emotional too. That emotional strength is not only pushing through fear or discomfort, but also understanding when to reduce ambition and retreat. There are days when the decision to turn back is more important than to push on, when continuing only leads to a dangerous situation. Humility is subtle sort of strength. Attempting to climb mountains will eventually humble almost everyone, when the wind picks up and the cold exposes your vulnerability above tree line there is no where to hide. The mountain has been here for millions of years before you or I, and it will still be there for millions of years after we are gone. The mountain always wins.

heading up to Edmands Col

Last Saturday I took my son and his best friend (co leading with her mother) on an ambitious route for 12 year olds. We planned to traverse the Northern Presidentials, the higher half of the full Presidential Traverse. While we started early, made good time up Airline, and felt fine on Mt. Madison, it was clear after Mt. Adams that we were not moving fast enough. We did go the harder path up Mt. Adams via Star Lake Trail. We also lingered too long at the Madison Hut. By the time we reached Mt. Jefferson we were 2 hours behind my plan and feeling fatigued. But it was a perfect weather day, so we were tempted to follow the plan and summit Mt. Washington. However that would get us down the Jewell trail close to dark, and home at 10:00 p.m. We also knew that a rain storm was forecast for 7-8 p.m. Once we rounded Mt. Clay the kids decided to descend. We skipped Mt. Washington rather than push on for another 3 miles. Half way down the ridge both kids said that their feet hurt, their energy was waning. They confirmed that was the right decision for this trip. 

last peak of the day

Perhaps that is the most important skill in mountaineering; assessing your present capacity and the conditions to decide when to descend, i.e. how to be humble. The phrase I've drilled the kids with all winter is "reaching the peak is optional, coming home with your fingers and toes is required". I expect that my little mountain goats will climb many many more mountains. We all love traveling in remote wild places too much to avoid them. I hope that when I no longer go with them on every trip they continue to make good decisions, that while they seek their goals it is always with humility towards the mountain.