Is It Worth the Risk?

Just like everyone who turned 25 recently, I found myself in deep thoughts about mortality increasingly more often. Apart from thinking about my own death, I have also been thinking about the recent deaths in climbing community. I used to think that the names in the news are just names, but they feel more real when they are someone you, or your friends know.

Climbing is a strange “sport”. It is somehow rooted in the culture that taking risk is cool. Taking big falls make you a badass. Around the campfires we tell the stories of taking scary falls and collect admiration from our peers. Hell, even when you take a giant fall at the crag, people cheer: “fuck yea dude!”. It almost feels like you are supposed to be fearless “just go for it”. We joke about what would happen if we were to fall at the run-outs, ending the conversation with a shrug and the golden advice of “just don’t fall”. I find it particularly interesting that climbers use words such as “bold” and “exciting” instead of “dangerous” and “you will break your legs if you fall”. I cannot recall the last time I read the word “dangerous” in a guidebook or online descriptions.

I myself am guilty of such acts too: I have almost shat myself on runouts then told others that it “wasn’t that bad”. Why? Is it to impress others and prove that I am better and more capable? Is it to not show “weakness”? Or is it simply an ego-driven behaviour to show that I am more capable than most? Perhaps it is a combination of all the above.

With climbing becoming exponentially popular, I’ve noticed that the danger element is often being swept under the rug. I don’t think many recognize the true meaning behind “climbing is a dangerous sport”. Taking belaying as an example — I’ve always thought it is a wild part of the sport. In what other sports — or in life — does one literally hold another’s life in their hands, or trusting the partner with their own life? However, there seem to be a lack of acknowledgement of the potentially severe consequences in introductory rock climbing course. Belaying is the most important thing one can do but we barely think twice.

The consequences of the risks we take feels remote when we tie into the end of a rope. Climbing can be made safe, but it is certainly not tennis. Before every first bolt clipped or first gear placed, there is possibility for catastrophic injuries. Somehow, such serious consequences are often overlooked and we again resort to the “just don’t fall” mentality. There is a difference between being fully aware of the risk and blindly walking into a situation without realizing the consequences. The most lethal type of risk is the risk that one’s unaware of. Perhaps that this is the reason why watching someone leading for the first time is worse than watching someone soloing. There is always a discrepancy between perceived risks and the actual risk. Prime example being: bouldering feels “safer” because it is often done closer to the ground, yet the majority of climbing injuries happen in bouldering. On the contrary, falling off a sport climb up high feels scary, yet it is often much safer.

The compound nature of risk is what makes climbing complicated and interesting. On the one hand one can minimize the subjective risks by being hyper aware of human errors. On the other hand, we are playing a numbers game against objective risks that are beyond our control.

How can we justify the amount of risks we take? Or even, how can we judge the amount of risk others take? Can we?

I don’t think there are simple answers to these questions. It is all really fucking complicated.

The advent of modern fast and light alpine climbing is perhaps the discipline that pushes the game of risk to the extremes. Alpine climbing is often threading the needle between making it and botching it. Those who play the game are aware of the risks deeply. Michael Gardener, Kyle Dempster, Scott Adamson, Hayden Kennedy… Some of the best alpinists set out to achieve goals that are so out there that us mere rock climbers simply cannot comprehend. These people are some of the best at assessing risk yet none of them are alive anymore.

That’s the thing. Risk can be mitigated, not eliminated.

The safest climbers are the ones who don’t climb.

Taking risks is like making withdrawals from a bank account with an unknown balance. We may get lucky for a while but it is only a matter of time before the savings are used up.

The thin line between drastically different outcomes of risk taking is incredible. Perhaps it is also why we are drawn to climbing, because it puts life in perspective. However, it is a mind fuck to think that a simple decision can mean the difference between life and death. After Jackson Marvell, Alan Rousseau, and Matt Cornell completed the legendary ascend of the Slovak Direct in one 21-hour push, they were celebrated as the ones who pushed alpine climbing to the next level. I could only imagine the risks that they chose to take to make such speed ascent happen. Indeed, their tactic was to simul climb with one single 60m rope, a single rack and 10 ice screws, often with one or two cams clipped between the three of them. I remember reading the article and think: this is fucked up. Even thought I know that in alpine climbing, the best piece of protection is the climbers’ ability to not fall. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder: how will the news headlines change if something were to go wrong? What if the rope got cut in a fall? Would they be called stupid instead of bold? Fortunately, we will never know.

The debate about risk has been on since a dude climbed El Cap without a rope. It has always been a polarizing subject. “What if he fell?” “What about his family?” “At least he will die doing what he loved”……

Should we simply… cancel the risk involved in all aspects of climbing? Should we cancel soloing and alpine climbing? This seem like a paradoxical argument since climbing is inherently risky. Accidents occur even in climbing gyms. Risk is an integral and even necessary part of climbing. The only thing one can do is being aware of the risks and choose the level that is acceptable for them.

As humans we love to inflict our opinions on others’ decisions. Most of the time it is not a respectful thing to do. But should I try to convince my loved ones to quit alpine climbing? Should we call Honnold irresponsible because he could’ve died soloing? I don’t know if there is an answer for such questions. A part of me believe that we should respect the decisions of others if they have considered and accepted the consequences. Another part of me also believe that they are being stupid and selfish.

One thing I can be sure of: the deaths of others weighs and changes the way we climb. Maybe that is the way we can find the silver lining in tragic events. Every accident makes us make safer climbing decisions. When in doubt, place that extra piece of gear and ask a take. No one gives a fuck about if you sent the route. Don’t rap off a single piece of gear, your life is worth more than 100 dollars.

Happy climbing.