After the third time Paddler Magazine called and asked if I had any good stories to contribute to a new section titled “Close Calls,” I began to worry. Were they asking because they liked my work, or because I was their most reliable source for near-death experiences?
As much as I wanted to believe the former was the reason, the truth was the latter proved disturbingly accurate. I hear a lot of harrowing tales. Fortunately, not all of them involve me.
But a few do, enough that my friend Peggy likes to recite a line from one of those stories dubiously titled “Pummeled in Panama” whenever she sees me. “Remember, Scott,” she says, “paddle hard and take nothing for granted. Because you never know when the world might open up and swallow you.”
About the only thing you know for certain in the world of adventure sports is that if you continue to pursue them and push yourself long enough, eventually you will face a situation you didn’t predict. It might be a cornice breaking off beneath your skis, a rock slide while you belay your climbing partner or a hungry tiger shark prowling the surf lineup. In my case, it was an underwater rock formation creating a hidden hazard known as a “sieve” that pinned my kayak and head underwater for more than a minute before I was able to claw my way out along the bottom of Panama’s Chiriqui Viejo River. Chalk it up as a lesson learned the scary way.
There were several lessons, actually, but after more than a decade in a kayak, the one that resonates loudest in my mind is that no matter how prepared you believe you are, no matter how educated, cautious and calculated, there’s always something else. And you have no idea whether you can deal with it until it goes down. To quote a favorite Paul Simon lyric: “Breakdowns come and breakdowns go. What are you going to do about it; that’s what I’d like to know.”
Of course the point I’m making is you don’t know what you’re going to do about it until you figure it out. The unfortunate reality in adventure sports such as whitewater kayaking, rock climbing, big mountain skiing and others is that when things go bad, they tend to go bad quickly. Typically there is very little time to figure things out. To compound the problem, a breakdown in the “red zone” is usually more consequential than six points for the other team.
But – as the surrounding Outdoor Extremes pages indicate – there are some things you can do, like stay on the couch. If you never get on a mountain bike, you can never fall off one. Pretty simple, but for a lot of us, not really an option. It does relate to a piece of advice any expert will offer, however, and that is, know your limits. Honesty and a healthy respect for your true ability level in any activity are critical to actually enjoying it enough to push yourself further. Everyone wants to maximize their potential, but give yourself some time to digest before biting off more than you can chew.
In the wild, experience matters. The more time you spend out there, the more you will encounter. But by expanding your adventures incrementally, hopefully you will take in the lessons more gradually, maybe even taking time to educate yourself in a classroom (such as an avalanche training or swiftwater safety course) on the side.
Gear matters, too. Quality equipment, whether it’s the right skis for the conditions, a GPS when you are lost in the wilderness or a breakdown paddle in the back of your boat, can save your neck. Of course, relying on gear in lieu of ability also can lead to big trouble. But bad equipment that fails at a critical moment can be fatal in the backcountry. It’s a lot like putting good tires on your car. If you play dangerous games, invest in good gear.
Ultimately, the goal we all strive for in adventure or extreme sports is to develop instincts you can trust. By making smart decisions up front, eventually it will happen, and those instincts along with solid rational thinking will help you avoid a majority of the hazards in whatever adventure you undertake.
For a lot of folks, this sort of morbid reality is enough to keep them on the couch. But the bottom line for me is that no one gets to choose how they die, only how they live. So I say play hard, stay safe and, most important, live to tell about it.
Staff writer Scott Willoughbycan be reached at 303-820-1993 or swilloughby@denverpost.com.
