Regarding the deaths in the Grand Canyon and other national parks (and elsewhere)...
My preferred holiday is long-distance trekking. (Think the Camino.) But I have spent my life outdoors so much that I am a seasoned Mountain Search & Rescue member, even while on vacation. I used to wonder how exactly people endure trouble on the trails so I asked the people we saved or found or helped. It was never really expressed in this way but the prevailing sentiment is they had given thought to the 'putting-in' but not the 'getting-out.' That is, they thought they were out for a walk in the park and nothing untoward would befall them.
Just that sort of thing occurred with the actor, Julian Sands, who loved hiking the trails and mountains of LA. He respected the trails' wild nature - yet still fell victim to the the seductions of Mt Baldy.
I sympathize. Several decades ago I was hiking part of the Backbone Trail in LA. Alone. I decided to go off-trail and rough it to a purported waterfall that occurred in Spring if the winter had been wet. While I was clambering down the creek bed, a rock I stepped on dislodged and I twisted my ankle so horribly badly that I just collapsed straight to the ground. And then threw up, thanks to the blood vacating the rest of my body and rushing to the scene of the crime (my right ankle). When I could, I got up and tested my weight on the ankle. No good. I was miles from the trailhead and, I hoped, other hikers; even farther from my car. I had nothing but a small bottle of water; no food, no cell phone, no warm jacket, no nothing. I was on my own. I looked up and could see houses above - people would be there, but no one up there would ever see me and no one would ever hike the part of the wilds I was on. And I sure was not in condition to hike UP.
I was on my own. I removed the right boot, rubbed the ankle furiously to try to disperse the swelling (and pain), and then quickly put the boot back on. (My foot would have frozen walking barefoot down the creek bed so I had to put the boot back on before it would not fit.) ...
I learned my lesson. Dress in layers. Walk with a buddy. Have food and water. Have a cell phone. Have an exit plan.
Sure wish other people could have the sense knocked into them, as it did me, before calamity strikes. Until it does, I help find them before it is too late.
Regarding the deaths in the Grand Canyon and other national parks (and elsewhere)...
My preferred holiday is long-distance trekking. (Think the Camino.) But I have spent my life outdoors so much that I am a seasoned Mountain Search & Rescue member, even while on vacation. I used to wonder how exactly people endure trouble on the trails so I asked the people we saved or found or helped. It was never really expressed in this way but the prevailing sentiment is they had given thought to the 'putting-in' but not the 'getting-out.' That is, they thought they were out for a walk in the park and nothing untoward would befall them.
Just that sort of thing occurred with the actor, Julian Sands, who loved hiking the trails and mountains of LA. He respected the trails' wild nature - yet still fell victim to the the seductions of Mt Baldy.
I sympathize. Several decades ago I was hiking part of the Backbone Trail in LA. Alone. I decided to go off-trail and rough it to a purported waterfall that occurred in Spring if the winter had been wet. While I was clambering down the creek bed, a rock I stepped on dislodged and I twisted my ankle so horribly badly that I just collapsed straight to the ground. And then threw up, thanks to the blood vacating the rest of my body and rushing to the scene of the crime (my right ankle). When I could, I got up and tested my weight on the ankle. No good. I was miles from the trailhead and, I hoped, other hikers; even farther from my car. I had nothing but a small bottle of water; no food, no cell phone, no warm jacket, no nothing. I was on my own. I looked up and could see houses above - people would be there, but no one up there would ever see me and no one would ever hike the part of the wilds I was on. And I sure was not in condition to hike UP.
I was on my own. I removed the right boot, rubbed the ankle furiously to try to disperse the swelling (and pain), and then quickly put the boot back on. (My foot would have frozen walking barefoot down the creek bed so I had to put the boot back on before it would not fit.) ...
I learned my lesson. Dress in layers. Walk with a buddy. Have food and water. Have a cell phone. Have an exit plan.
Sure wish other people could have the sense knocked into them, as it did me, before calamity strikes. Until it does, I help find them before it is too late.