By Cecilia La France
A terrible thing preceded my adventures this summer: death.
As a new Coloradan excited to seize every peak and trail of my glorious state, I’ve begun ticking off some of the state’s 54 official 14,000-foot mountains. After bagging five in my first months here last year, I waited like an impatient child this season for the clear weather and trip reports necessary for my skill level. Finally, atop my first summit this year, I stared out at an endless range of Rockies—the reward for high altitude hiking and huffing—and looked forward to the next. Actually, the next peak, Mt. Evans at 14,264 feet, was just one ridge away, and I planned on circling over to it immediately.
Two days before that trip, Mary Elizabeth Bowles, a 50-year-old Colorado woman, fell to her death while attempting the grizzly Sawtooth Ridge between Mt. Bierstadt and Mt. Evans. Bowles apparently slipped while crossing a snowfield and couldn’t stop herself before falling over a cliff. Fresh in my mind, I had trouble suppressing thoughts of that steep route and Bowles’ death before my hike.
Still, I kept my hike date and reached the ridge to begin my skirt around a false summit to Mt. Evans peak. This whole stretch looks back on the jagged Sawtooth, the fresh scene of tragedy. Details of Bowles death had not been released as of then, and my mind split between my own experience and speculation of her tragic fall. Was she like me: an avid hiker with a spirit of adventure? Was she an overzealous ego improperly prepared? Or, did the risks of mountaineering win despite skill, experience, and tools? My cairned trail hardly compared against the difficulty of a Sawtooth approach, but I finished my ascent to Mt. Evans’ peak with somber, careful steps.
Six days later, I looked into the gullies of Mt. Princeton, the newest 14er grave. That week, 30-year-old Coloradan Deanna Miller became the fourth person to die while attempting a Colorado 14er in 2011. Again, I didn’t know the logistics of her death, but I was full of judgment in this instance. I had searched the 14ers.com forums for insight before making my own trek and saw that plenty of people commented on the poor weather conditions the day she died. Incoming rain and thunderclaps at 11:30 the morning of my descent attest to the common but sudden afternoon storms that occur at lofty altitudes.
Death haunted my steps on these two mountains. Yet, tragic accidents preceding adventures and are hardly isolated events. Wreaths mark the fatal falls of cyclists on roads. Plaques and benches memorialize lives lost on mountains. Headlines notify of drowning snorkelers. What about that lucky campsite my family landed in Yellowstone, the last one open on a busy weekend, the one that just happened to be the site of a bear mauling the night before?
Why do we risk death for a summit, for a top speed, for the diamond run, or for the adventure of the day?
The answer hit me in traffic recently. It’s likely that, sometime on this busy street, someone has died in a car accident. For that matter, someone has likely choked to death on food at any one of the restaurants lining the road. And death occurs daily because of preventable health problems caused by consuming too much cholesterol, too many calories, too much cigarette smoke, and etcetera. Death is inevitable. Accidents, by their nature, happen. Which is the better way to die?
Adventures enrich life. Without them, life is a waiting line for death. Reward only comes with risk, and adventurous people are well aware of the possibilities. The first time I met with a financial planner, my answer to the standard “What are your retirement goals?” was “I most likely will fall of a mountain before then, but just in case…” I don’t have a death wish. I have a desire to challenge myself and live a life rich in experiences. I turn back when conditions or skill level trumps my goal, but I’m working really hard on not letting fear of failure triumph. I understand every adventuress may have a different attitude or motivation, but my sole aim is a challenge.
Bowles’ and Miller’s stories have sad endings, but they are not exactly evidence of a wasted life. Solace in these fatal falls may just be in the fact that they died doing their thing. However, I leave my trails grateful for the opportunity to start another.
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Cecilia La France lives in Denver, CO, where she works as a teacher. She writes freelance articles and is currently working on a Colorado nonfiction novel. Her current adventure goals are to complete the 500-mile Colorado Trail and summit the 54 Colorado 14,000+ ft. mountains.
My sentiments exactly!