Turning around

[Paul Wagner]

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<span style=”font-size: medium;”>There are all kinds of wonderful quotes about adventure, epic voyages, and the need to keep pushing forward despite the conditions and the odds.  We haven’t found quite so many quotes that urge common sense and caution in the face of danger.  And yet each year we read about people who lose their lives in the backcountry primarily because they just wouldn’t admit that it was time to turn around. </span>

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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>(Note that despite these fatal accidents, it’s still much safer to be hiking than driving in your car to the trailhead–or the local supermarket.) </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>And this got us thinking.  We have made the decision to turn around because we didn’t like the option of pushing forward on a number of occasions.  Twice, that involved the potential crossing of a roaring creek;  Mono Creek towards Second Recess in early July, and Frog Creek Towards Laurel Lake in late May in Yosemite.  In both cases there was a log that provided at least a hope of getting across.  But it was a long crossing, the log was high across the creek, and to fall into the creek below would have been disastrous—it was at full flood.  </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>And so we turned around, and selected another route, and another destination. </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>We did the same thing as we worked our way cross-country above Yellowhammer Lake in the Emigrant Wilderness.  The cliffs got steeper, the manzanita got denser, and we decided that there had to be another way.  </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>There was. And we found it the next morning. </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>And just six weeks ago we did the same thing in the face of strong winds below Bishop Pass.  With the winds blowing a steady 30 mph and with gusts to 50 mph where we were, a full 1500 feet below the pass, we decided that we didn’t want to make the effort.  Those we met on the trail who had come over the pass looked shell-shocked, to say the least.  </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>And so we turned around, and chose another ending to our trip. </span></div>
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<div><span style=”font-size: medium;”>In each case, we were really happy with the decision.  We love hiking, and seeing new things,  And we are really  that we are still here, still able to hike, and enjoying the benefits of turning around when it was the right thing to do.</span></div>

[Paul Wagner]

I hate this formatting Sh1t. Post looks good in the preview.  then it looks like the above once published.  And no hope of editing the first post of a thread.  What ever happened to wysiwyg?

SO here is a clean version:

There are all kinds of wonderful quotes about adventure, epic voyages, and the need to keep pushing forward despite the conditions and the odds.  We haven’t found quite so many quotes that urge common sense and caution in the face of danger.  And yet each year we read about people who lose their lives in the backcountry primarily because they just wouldn’t admit that it was time to turn around.

(Note that despite these fatal accidents, it’s still much safer to be hiking than driving in your car to the trailhead–or the local supermarket.)

And this got us thinking.  We have made the decision to turn around because we didn’t like the option of pushing forward on a number of occasions.  Twice, that involved the potential crossing of a roaring creek;  Mono Creek towards Second Recess in early July, and Frog Creek Towards Laurel Lake in late May in Yosemite.  In both cases there was a log that provided at least a hope of getting across.  But it was a long crossing, the log was high across the creek, and to fall into the creek below would have been disastrous—it was at full flood.

And so we turned around, and selected another route, and another destination.

We did the same thing as we worked our way cross-country above Yellowhammer Lake in the Emigrant Wilderness.  The cliffs got steeper, the manzanita got denser, and we decided that there had to be another way.

There was. And we found it the next morning.

And just six weeks ago we did the same thing in the face of strong winds below Bishop Pass.  With the winds blowing a steady 30 mph and with gusts to 50 mph where we were, a full 1500 feet below the pass, we decided that we didn’t want to make the effort.  Those we met on the trail who had come over the pass looked shell-shocked, to say the least.

And so we turned around, and chose another ending to our trip.

In each case, we were really happy with the decision.  We love hiking, and seeing new things,  And we are really  that we are still here, still able to hike, and enjoying the benefits of turning around when it was the right thing to do.

So when have you turned around….and why?

[Jerry Adams]

Bummer – you hit both not able to edit first post bug and html code bug : )

I routinely turn around when things get difficult.  I’m more into experiencing the wilderness and not so much into achieving particular goals. It doesn’t really matter that much exactly where I go.

I always give my wife an itinerary, but I just specify a route that will include the most ambitious that I might do.  If I specify a loop, for example, and turn around part way through, I’ll still be on that loop so SAR will be able to find my body : )

[John]

I agree with you. We should celebrate common sense as much as, or more than, perseverance (given that we have a choice – not a survival situation).

I have turned around several times. It hurts at first, but I have always gotten over it.

I think a big part of it is that most humans are trying to wedge an experience between our self-imposed and existential parameters (job, relationships, etc). Stakes is high!

[Lester Moore]

Lots of past trips have involved turning around early, especially for climbing trips. It’s always a balancing act between acceptable level of risk versus reward. And everyone has their own formula for risk assessment and acceptable level of risk. I’ve always been a fan of pushing the limits a little for one area of risk if other known risks have been managed acceptably. For example, if you’re running late and will have to hike out in the dark if you continue, but other risks are well managed (good weather, good physical condition, familiar route, headlamp, skills hiking/climbing in the dark) then go for it (usually). But if multiple areas of risk begin to overlap (running late, plus bad weather, plus unfamiliar route), that’s taking things too far in most cases. And always listen to your gut too, in addition to assessing all the objective stuff going on.

[jscott]

That tell-tale spooked/shocked/exhausted/get me down-outaa here look on the faces of people coming out of the area you’re heading into is always a warning sign.

[Lester Moore]

That tell-tale spooked/shocked/exhausted/get me down-outaa here look on the faces of people coming out of the area you’re heading into is always a warning sign.

Depends on what kind of people they are. Many times I’ve heard horror stories from passing hikers about the rough, wet trail ahead, or how windy and cold is was up top, etc, only to find conditions to be just fine if you’re properly prepared. Beta from people with unknown skill and experience I usually take as tentative at best. But if I know the people and their skill and experience level, then that’s a very different story.

[Ken Thompson]

Paul. You must adopt the sacrificial first post method. Then you’ll have a week to fix stuff.

[BlackHatGuy]

“Paul. You must adopt the sacrificial first post method. Then you’ll have a week to fix stuff.”

Or just always make your first post using the “TEXT” tab instead of the default “VISUAL” tab. If there’s an issue, you’ll see it when using the TEXT tab.

(Personally, since they have this site set up so poorly, I think the TEXT tab should be the default, not the VISUAL tab.)

[Doug Coe]

Years ago I did a loop out of California’s Mammoth area that went past Iceberg Lake. Guess what was in that lake?

I passed hikers going the other way, so when I got to the snow I had to cross above said lake, I thought I should be able to do it. But the snow was a bit firm and it was difficult to kick really good steps into the snow on this cross-slope hill. If you fall you slide into a lake with snow all around with a four foot tall vertical face.

I swore loudly to keep my energy up and managed to get across, but the fear and adrenaline kind of ruined the last day and a half of that hike for me! (Maybe should have turned around.)

[Tom K]

As Ed Viesturs once remarked:  “Summiting is optional, returning is mandatory.”  The same wisdom applies to hiking/backpacking.  Those who ignore it will almost always end up in trouble at some point.  Pushing the limits a bit is how we gain the experience that leads to good judgment and wisdom, but when doing so it is prudent to listen to your gut and be prepared to cut the exercise short when things start to get sketchy.  That “When” encompasses infinitely varied situations, and there will inevitably be casualties, but most of us seem to have avoided the worst outcomes;  hence this conversation.  I might add that it is helpful to seek out the advice of others more experienced, and also do a little reading, before contemplating routes that may be beyond a newcomer’s comfort/competence level.

[Arthur]

There is a quite good book pertaining to this sort of decision making. A bit wordy, but hits on a lot of mechanisms of choices and why we make them in the outdoors.

Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why
by Laurence Gonzales

[AK Granola]

I am far too likely to turn back when I could have easily succeeded, especially if alone. If I’m with others, I am more likely to continue through hardships. I have gotten into what I thought were precarious situations in groups (wet, cold, foggy and windy, or crossing snowfields above major drops or chutes, deep river crossings, etc.), but made it through them with a bit of struggle, but minimal danger in retrospect. Having companions also increases the chance that we can overcome some of the dangers, since we’re watching out for each other. But if you’re the one sliding off the cliff into the lake, the buddies might only be able to watch!

Recently I hiked with a friend at eveningtime, then darkness, to a rental cabin. She thought of canceling due to a head cold, and my plan was to go alone, but she changed her mind and we went together. Along the way we ran into some decently sized bear tracks. Together it was no big deal, but if I had been alone? Maybe I would have turned around, idk. But I wouldn’t have needed to; it’s all mental! The risk in reality was too minimal to warrant a change in plans. I find it hard to push through that boundary solo.

I don’t know if I lack courage, confidence, or just over analyze. OTOH all my injuries have been relatively minor, so that’s good. I like to hike with people who take more risks than I do, to get me out of the mental safety zone. But I’m glad my friends don’t take selfies on cliffs; I choose my companions with care. As a group we rarely turn back.

[Jerry Adams]

“I am far too likely to turn back when I could have easily succeeded, especially if alone. If I’m with others, I am more likely to continue through hardships.”

same here. Probably hiking with others is more risky for me.

I’ll have to check out the laurence gonzales book, thanks

[Mike In Socal]

“He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day.”

I highly recommend the Laurence Gonzales book. I’m 1/2 way through it and it’s excellent.

The decision making process is a fluid one where your options need to be constantly evaluated because circumstances and conditions change. Turning around is an option among several that must be always be considered. If you enjoy hiking then you should enjoy it, not endure it, especially if it puts your life at risk.

[jscott]

“Depends on what kind of people they are.”

This goes without saying.

[Paul Wagner]

I would also recommend both Over the Edge–Death in the Grand Canyon, and Off the Wall–Death in Yosemite.  It is amazing to read the clinical analysis of how some of those people died, and the decisions they made beforehand…

[Tom K]

“As a group we rarely turn back.”

There is an added margin of safety when hiking in a group, both physical and psychological.  When hiking solo, particularly off trail, where the consequences are potentially more serious, most of us tend to play it a bit more conservatively when it comes to stream crossings, weather, marginal scrambles, etc.  Or, at least I do.

[BlackHatGuy]

I turn around, especially when I have bright eyes, because every now and then I fall apart….

[Ken Thompson]

Do hugs help?

 

[Rex Sanders]

In my experience, toxic group think among hikers, climbers, and whitewater rafters has led to an astounding number of stupid decisions resulting in accidents, injuries, and sometimes death. On too many occasions I’ve dropped out of trips because I saw trouble ahead and couldn’t convince the group otherwise.

Another reason I like backpacking alone. I’ve regretted not reaching my goals, but not avoiding injury or worse.

And a few times I considered turning around but didn’t. Luckily I lived and learned.

It’s a fine line between pushing your limits and going to far, with no easy answers.

— Rex

[Gumbo]

Case study of the dangers of not turning around: https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/german-hiker-stuck-on-the-pacific-crest-trail-saved-by-a-stranger/

[Diane Pinkers]

I hiked the Timberline trail solo.  I’d prepared for months, reading trip reports, especially about the Eliot Creek crossing, which at that time involved skating down into the creek bed on moraine debris, with sketchy ropes to snag.  That ultimately wasn’t too bad, but the last day I was supposed to be out, I didn’t pay attention, and missed a trail junction, ending up 5 miles round trip out of my way.  That put me at the White River crossing at 5 pm, with the sun beating down on the glacier–it is on the south east side of the mountain.  It too requires picking your way down glacier debris to the river bed, then across a shallow braided river. I couldn’t see the trail continuation on the other side easily, and I was not minded to risk another diversion. I was standing on the top of the stream side, trying to figure out where the trail picked up on the other side, when I heard a “whomp” off in the distance.  5-10 minutes later the shallow braided river became a flood race with good sized rocks bouncing down it. I decided that, in spite of only having 3 miles left to get to the car, that bivying on the bank was the better choice, and trying to cross in the morning when the temps overnight might have reduced the glacier melt.  I set myself up so that I could grab and stuff everything into my back at a moment’s notice, and set my alarm for just before dawn.  As I was packing up my bag, a trio of hikers came from the other direction, clearly showing where the trail was on the other side of the moraine.  3 miles hike put me into Timberline Lodge just in time for the breakfast buffet, a nice reward for prudence.

Two things made the decision super easy. 1) plenty of food on hand, making an extra night easy to contemplate, and 2) an InReach, so I could easily contact my boyfriend, and tell him that I was going to be delayed an additional day, but that I was safe, and don’t call out the cavalry.

[Diane “Piper” Soini]

I got lost once in Ventura County because I didn’t turn around even though deep down I really knew I should turn around and climb way way way back up the hill to see where I went wrong. That was the dumbest thing I ever did and very dangerous. I ended up going cross-country for many hours. I slipped and fell a few times, I hit my head HARD on a boulder once and I almost stepped on a rattlesnake. I was alone and nobody on earth knew where I was, I had no way to communicate and I didn’t even know where I was. I ended up in the right place in the end, but damn, that was scary.

I don’t know what it was that got into me. It’s like I thought I could bend reality to my desires or something and I did everything to push away any thought to the contrary. I wanted to believe so badly I could change reality that I entered a state of total denial, and yet it wasn’t total enough because at some level I still knew. I should have turned around. I should have gone farther up that hill.

[David Thomas]

A not-uncommon t-shirt among cavers is “Floyd would have pushed it.” which is both a humorous comment about the tragic events of 1925 when a young man, Floyd Collins, explored a new cave in hopes of finding a money-making show cave for his family’s road-side business, got stuck, and the attempted rescue was a circus, poorly executed, national news for two weeks, and ultimately unsuccessful.   But I also took it as a warning of what happens when you deviate too far from safe practices.

Responsible dry-air cavers have a well-established safety ethos and ethic (not only is wrong to do things that result in injury or death, but bad outcomes also result in cave closures) and grottos (chapters) of the National Speleological Society run their trips carefully and, unlike many other sports, insist that beginners are vetted by experienced cavers for their skills AND ATTITUDES before going into difficult or delicate caves.  Within the NSS, “caver” means a person who pursues this as a serious hobby while “spelunker” is a yahoo in jeans and a t-shirt sharing one flashlight among three people in a cave none of them have been to before.

Each year, when “Cave Accident Report” comes out (about 50 pages of fatalities, injuries, getting lost (and found), and near misses, we’d all read it and reflect on the bad outcomes.  Each year there’d be 4-8 cave-diving deaths (run out of air – you die, decompress too quickly – you get the bends and die, get lost – you run out of air and die, flick up some silt with your flipper – you’ll get lost, run out of air and, yeah, you die) and we dry-air covers, who are 50x more prevalent, would think, “Yeah, that’s cave diving.”   But if there were more than 1-2 fatalities among serious dry-air cavers (not Scout troops, spelunkers, partiers, etc), we’d really consider if, as a sub-culture, we needed to change something.

I concur with Paul’s recommendation, “Over the Edge–Death in the Grand Canyon” – you follow each narrative, knowing it won’t end well, and I find myself considering, “would I have done that?” on one of my many trips to the GC (I’m taking both kids the first week of next month, I’ve taken each of them separately before):

and I start off each trip telling them we’ll have a nice hike that may OR MAY NOT get to the River, based on how we’re feeling, the temperature that day, our pace, etc.

If there was an annual compendium of backpacking deaths and injuries, I’d read it.  I’d learn things.  It would reinforce my existing safe practices and help me develop new ones.

[Author]

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