Left To Our Own Devices

It's certain now. The mountain has taken three more. And in the wake of the most recent climber deaths on Mt. Hood an argument rages. Why isn't it mandatory for all climbers to carry a simple tracking beacon? Pitted against each other are folks who think that the small signaling device, which rents for $5.00 would not only save more lives, but would also same the cost of search and rescue/recovery missions. They don't forget that it was not too long ago that a helicopter full of rescuers crashed on the mountain in a vain attempt to find missing climbers. Seems like a no brainer, but the adventurous do make a few points that merit attention.

They claim that part of their spiritual attraction to climbing the mountain is the risk involved; all the risk involved. They claim that if everybody were "forced" to carry the beacon then people would take unnecessary risks.

Others, who do a bit of risky climbing themselves, say that part of being well-prepared, being a professional, includes preparing for everything, even the possibility of being lost. They advocate the use of a beacon. Then there are those who have tried to make a workable compromise. They argue if climbers feel that any governmental regulation infringes on their right to risky adventure, they should sign a waiver allowing them to assume the risk they covet, but also assuming the financial responsibility for any rescue attempt, should one become necessary. That might work...but is that really the issue here?

One of the most convincing arguments in favor of NOT carrying the device I've heard concerns the encroachment of technology on everything human. These people feel that the true experience of being in the wild, unattached is truly threatened. They want to go into the wilderness with no net at all times because to do otherwise means we are less human, less able to depend on human resources, human self-reliance, human qualities. I get that. But I also get that the mountain has claimed three more, three more who will not be around t give us their feedback in this debate. Three more who might have a change of heart given what they have now experienced.

Nevertheless, the questions raised here are all good ones. What do you think?

Comments

To a Tee

I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt. They are the foundational garment of my life. My day starts with selecting a t-shirt and it ends with sleeping in one. Once thought of as under garments, t-shirts are now original art and no doubt, a billion dollar business. You can get a t-shirt with anybody's picture displayed. You can commemorate an event, a birthday, a death, even a specular play in any sport. Family reunions usually have a commemorative t-shirt. Also, any organization that solicits your support in the form of a donation is likely to offer you a t-shirt. Where once I only had the basic white t-shirt, my drawers are filled with all manner of colorful choices. Some recognize major events in my life, some, spectacular performances or plays I have witnessed, and some unforgettable places I have been. I say I'm a sucker for a good t-shirt because I have taken the bait on what I perceived as a must-have only to be disappointed. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

Body Language

I'm sitting there in a hospital gown, waiting for my doctor to complete my yearly physical. This is when I look at everything on the walls, read the medical posters, the instructions on any equipment in the room, look in every corner and behind every chair. I study the paper on the examination table, laugh out loud at the picture of a smiling child holding a bouquet of broccoli, and the note the placement of the computer in the room. Finally, wondering if the gown I'm wearing is on correctly, I focus on myself. At this point in my life I'm fairly comfortable in a doctor's office. But it always seems to take so long when waiting for the doc to enter. So I fidget. Then I begin a tour of myself. Scars are tattoos. I look at the one on my knee and see myself at 12. Whittling a piece of wood with my Boy Scout jack knife. The blade slips and I cut a crescent slash through my jeans and into my flesh for life. 50 years later ...

Daily Blues & Views

Search This Blog