I spent the day in self-imposed house arrest: downloading and learning new software, trying to find a factory that can produce an unnecessarily overly engineered part, and watching the Broncos (I know, WTF?). I finally made it farther than the end of the porch into a clear, cold, starry night. Elk Ave. is quiet. Even some of the bars are shut down for off season. I picked up a copy of Mountain Gazette from the news bins in front of the post office. I just finished reading Dick Dorworth's article "Of Troglodytes and Technology". It resonated not with the frequency of a bell or chime, but with the vibration that I feel from rivers and swaying trees...foundational. I'd like to post the whole text of the article here but it hasn't been published on-line yet. Here are a few quotes:
"Spatial variability in the snowpack is as real as the differences between every snowflake that has ever fallen or ever will."
"The security of wearing a transceiver in an avalanche is insurance that one's companions will be able to find and dig out that tranceiver, but it does not mean that what the transceiver is attached to will survive."
"In my view the only attitude and intention to take into the backcountry is that if you are caught in an avalanche you are completely f*****. F*****. F******. F*****."
I don't think he's ranting against technology. It's important to have backcountry tools and to know how to use them. A breathing apparatus is a great thing to have, but it's even greater to avoid having to use it. Digging a pit yields valuable information, but the snow pack will vary from where you dig the pit to where you drop into your line. You have to be able to feel it. You have to be able to say "no".
Last season at the request of my parents I bought an Avalung. I finally purchased a digital beacon after some soul searching over whether I could really find the people I love with an analog beacon on a grid search. And, after one of my most frequent ski partners questioned the true functionality of my ski poles that convert, in a geologic timeframe, to an inadequately short probe, I plunked down some cash for a Quickdraw probe. Do these things make me feel any safer in the backcountry? No. I imagine that they garner a bit more confidence from my ski partners, but they haven't changed my habits; they haven't caused me to charge harder, ski steeper, or let my guard down. Have I missed some really sick lines in the backcountry? Has it caused me to be left behind by the harder charging skiers in my social circle? Yes. But we all have our own ideas of what is an acceptable level of risk. I know smart, experienced people - people who I ultimately respect and have a lot of trust in - who will ski stuff in the BC that I won't even touch; and they feel safe doing it; and they probably are. I've been blessed to find a handful of people who ski a little harder than I do, who can lay uphill track like human snowcats, and who are completely satisfied skiing mellow -30 degree lines in widely spaced trees.
What's my point? I'm not really sure other than to encourage us all to carry the best gear we can afford; to practice using it; to learn everything we can about traveling on snow; to talk to each other about what makes us feel comfortable and uncomfortable; to feel ok with saying "no"; and to enjoy the process of traveling on snow as much as the accomplishment and elation of skiing something challenging.
