Nelson’s Corner: Damn the Expense!

This piece is part of Yellow Scene Magazine’s Opinion section. The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent a reported news position. At Yellow Scene, opinion pieces speak freely, challenge assumptions, and say the quiet parts out loud.

The tragic deaths of nine backcountry skiers in California have reignited an always-smoldering debate about risk-taking and the various consequences that may ensue.

In this case, six women and three guides died in an avalanche near Lake Tahoe. The group was returning from a hut to the trailhead where their ill-fated trip had begun. Blackbird Mountain Guides, the trip organizers, were harshly criticized for leading a trip into what hindsight proved to be unusually treacherous conditions. The other one of their four guides survived, along with five other clients.

The rescue and recovery operation was lengthy and expensive. In response to news stories about the tragedy came the expected complaints from those who bemoan the taxpayer expense involved in bailing out risk-takers of all kinds.

Full disclosure requires my acknowledgement that I am in the risk-taking category and may be a tad biased. In 2020, I crashed on a jump on Erie Singletrack trails. I was unconscious, unresponsive, and helicoptered to UC Health Anschutz. My neck was broken thrice, my hip fractured, and a few ribs cracked. 

My life was likely saved by first responders from the Mountain View rescue team. A year later I sought out Kolby Hogan, first on the scene, to thank him. We hugged. Excessive disclosure: I’ve enjoyed Mountain View services three times since then – twice when poor hydration led to collapses, from which I rapidly recovered, and a third when a careless e-biker sent me to the ground and a temporary fog.

Colorado residents are familiar with risk-taking and its consequences. Rock climbers on the Flatirons or in Eldorado Canyon are frequently in the news. Some are in over their heads and some are experts, stretching their limits. A family friend lost her superbly prepared brother, a backcountry snowboarder, to an unexpected avalanche.

In my New England days, hardly a week went by, in all seasons, without a knucklehead needing rescue from Mt. Washington or the exposed Franconia Ridge, a place I adore and traversed many times.

In some locales, statutes have passed requiring misguided or unlucky adventurers to reimburse the costs of rescue. To many folks, that seems justified, especially when the victim or victims seem particularly stupid. Some might see a 73 year-old taking flight on a mountain bike to be particularly stupid. My wife is on the border with that question!

The people who bray the loudest on this topic seem risk-averse, although a few “experts” jumped on the criticism bandwagon. As might be expected, I beg to differ.

Especially during my years of road biking and racing, I endured hundreds of insults, intentional running off the roads, and impatient honking. Some portion of the population appears to resent anyone taking space where gas-guzzlers reign supreme. You can imagine the occasional taunt I enjoyed when roller-skiing in my heart pajamas on Valentine’s Day.

My various choices have been relatively low-risk when compared to free solo rock climbing, jumping from a cliff in a wing suit, or other extreme sports. In those instances, a rescue is irrelevant if something goes awry.

As pointed out by adventurous souls, many rescue teams are comprised of volunteers, blunting the argument of taxpayer resentment. And, of course, professionals like Kolby Hogan and his Mountain View colleagues do the work because they are dedicated and brave. I’ll bet they never say, “Man, that cost property owners a pretty penny!”

Amidst the banality and stress of daily life, the spirit to stretch boundaries and immerse oneself in beautiful and/or fierce terrain is a dimension of existence to cherish, not bitch about. In the broader context, the costs to society are trivial, and the benefits are ethereal, even if experienced vicariously.

Expenses incurred in cleaning up the bloody aftermath of drunk or careless driving dwarf the costs of rescuing people trying to experience life fully. Perhaps trite and never adequately comforting, it is nonetheless true to note that Tahoe avalanche victims died doing something they loved.

I have no death wish. But when I go, I wouldn’t mind a bit if that’s what echoes through whatever spirited memorial comes my way.

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