Shame, Critique, and Risk in the Mountains

In 1999 I was 19 years old and made the sort of mistake that 19 year olds make. I got lost with some friends, in the winter and without the proper permit, on Katahdin in Baxter State Park. Because the mistake I made was in the mountains, it made the news. If my mistake had been of a similar caliber, but not in the mountains, it is unlikely that it would have made the news. Because of the nature of the outdoor community, I faced extensive scrutiny from peers and mentors. Outside the mountains I might not have faced that scrutiny. 

For some reason, what we do in the mountains is closely scrutinized. We are scrutinized from within and from without. Every single avalanche fatality in the United States is recorded and analyzed at Avalanche.org. Name for me another cause of death that is so comprehensively documented with that coverage so readily available? Here in my home region, every single skier action that affects the Teton Pass road makes the news. Name for me another highway use/abuse that makes the news, every single time? 

The scrutiny is unprecedented elsewhere. And we’re facing that scrutiny with even greater intensity now, in the time of Covid19. Outdoor recreationists are being asked to suspend or slow their practices to reduce or eliminate transmission rates and to reduce or eliminate the likelihood and frequency of using emergency medical services. 

Countless individuals, advocacy groups and government agencies are asking for or demanding the halt of outdoor recreation. Associated scrutiny of those that continue to recreate is intense. Requests, demands, and scrutiny are coming from within and outside the outdoor community. Yes, outdoor recreation is unnecessary, dangerous, and requires at least a little travel from our homes. But is outdoor recreation the cardinal sin that one might assume it is? 

What if I called for the suspension of alcohol consumption? Alcohol consumption is dangerous, much like the outdoors. There are other parallels. I like them both, for one thing. Neither is “essential”. Both can be enjoyed with minimal interpersonal contact. Both are more fun with others. Neither can be enjoyed with zero risk to oneself and others. Both are relied upon for mental health, can be healthy in moderation but dangerous with overindulgence or lapse in judgement,  and many have enjoyed both for decades with no issue. Practitioners new and old alike can have issues in the outdoors and with alcohol. Both tax the system if things don't go well. Are we calling for the suspension of alcohol consumption? Certainly not with the fervor and efficacy of efforts to shame and limit outdoor recreation. 

Advocates for limiting or eliminating outdoor recreation are calling for solidarity. There are those legally and logistically confined to cities that absolutely cannot recreate in the wild. There are those that have logistical and legal access to the mountains but are choosing to forego wild recreation voluntarily. Advocates indicate that all should choose to forego outdoor recreation out of respect to those that can’t or have chosen not to. This sounds good, on one level. On another, it is absurd. Some live where and how their choices and skills allow them to go to the mountains in the time of Covid19. Should their mountain recreation be curtailed for fear of insulting those that cannot or have chosen not to? Some live where and how their choices and skills allow them to work and support themselves. Should their work be curtailed for fear of insulting those that cannot or have chosen not to? 

Some advocates for adaptation of outdoor recreation ask that everyone choose activities that present no risk of SAR response or a hospital visit. A good alternative to dangerous rock climbing or backcountry skiing might be public path type recreation. No one is going to tell me not to go skateboarding on the paved off-street path mere yards from my house. Many are asking or demanding that I not go backcountry skiing at all. Me, on a skateboard, no matter the circumstance or proximity to home, has a very, very high likelihood of ending with a visit from an ambulance or to the emergency room. Me skiing open glades in the western and southern Teton region, is legal and presents far less hazard to me than some other non-shamed activities. No outdoor activity is without risk and not all practitioners of outdoor recreation are created equal. (Of course, practitioners of risky activities are not known for being highly aware of their own risk exposure, but that isn’t unique to the outdoors.)

This isn’t about government overreach or the “nanny state”. Public emergencies require public response. Some of that response will be imposed, and some will be voluntary. Some will become permanent and some will be temporary. All will be debatable. This is about us. Mountain communities do well, sometimes too well, at policing ourselves. We are shaming and critiquing and judging one another. This is partially about the media and partially about individual shaming. Sure, we’re “covered” by the news with closer scrutiny. But does that scrutiny not mirror our own internal propensity for peer critique? This isn’t about all shaming being bad. Avalanche fatalities are, when corrected for participation, declining over recent decades. Technology, education and practices have improved, but I don’t see enough of that to explain the decline. I have to speculate that some of the decline (or, at least, lack of increase) in avalanche fatalities can be attributed to the behavioral modification adopted alongside the understanding that what we do is scrutinized. 

I thank the world every day for that scrutiny. I also hate it. That scrutiny, and my own concern for how I appear through that lens, keeps me alive. I wish I was above it. I wish that I could muster this level of risk management and motivation without tying either to external forces. I work to be above it, constantly finding more and more internally and less and less externally. However, I’m not going to pretend external forces for and against don’t have an impact. I’ll appreciate the up side of this equation while working to minimize the down side. I can appreciate the up side while having no interest in participating, individually, in the downside. I’m thankful that what I do in the outdoors offends some. I am responsible to and for that offense. That responsibility elevates my practice. But I’m really working to not be one of those that takes offense. 

I don’t ask for less scrutiny and critique of what we do in the mountains. Maybe the “fairness gauge” in me wishes, just a little, for this sort of scrutiny on those sorts of activity that don’t have it.  Mainly my wish is that individuals and groups better understood all these dynamics. We don’t exist in a bubble. Shame has its costs, on the shamer and the shamed. But that shame has its benefits too. On all involved and on the collective. 

How is this actionable, right now? “That’s great, Jed, but what does it actually mean?” Even with tight legal restrictions, there is still room for interpretation and choice. What to do within the range of choices you currently have, as it pertains to outdoor activity? If there is a theme to my entire body of communications it is to look critically at risk. You are exposed to risk. You likely even appreciate that life and work and play expose you to some level of risk. Understand that you are not a perfect observer of risk, but have confidence that you can still examine it. Look at what risks you are actually taking and what risks you wish to take. Understand what risks you might be willing to take “in normal  (non-‘rona) life”. And, for now, dial that back. 

Right now we’re wrapping up backcountry ski season in most parts of the American mountain community.  If you’d be willing to take x amount of backcountry skiing risk without Covid19, I want you to take some amount less than that. Whether the reduction in backcountry skiing risk is imposed by legal and logistical limits or by your own personal choice, I don’t care. Let’s say there are four different levels of risk. You can operate “as normal”. You can dial it back “a little”. You can dial it back “a lot”. Or you can turn it down by “infinity” (zero backcountry skiing, in this case). No one will fault you for turning it off entirely. Right now, near the peak of this thing, we can’t really justify dialing it back any less than “a lot”. Your “dial-it-back” levels are calibrated to your own practices. We were in a sort of homeostasis before, with varying levels of risk exposure. We can find a temporary, Covid-friendly homeostasis with varying levels of risk exposure now, as long as we’re all dialing it back. For me, this is the time of year when I ski guide the Grand Teton, chase speed records, climb Alaskan peaks, and make solo technical traverses. My “norm” is quite risky. For me to dial it back “a lot”, from that, looks different from how others might dial it back a lot.  All of these things, for instance, are currently off the table for me. Some legally and logistically, and some by my own choice.  

We’ll take less risk, collectively, because of the legal steps taken. We’ve also got to modify our behavior to a less risky level, collectively. That collective reduction of risk requires individual reduction of risk. This phenomenon is manifesting in a variety of ways in our outdoor community. This phenomenon won’t last forever. The shame, offense, scrutiny, risk-ignorance and solidarity pieces are interesting and what we learn, individually and collectively from this experience will last forever.