Enjoying this website a great deal, thank you all.

So part of me thinks that for a given activity there is a given hazard level, say 5. I’m pretty comfortable and experienced so I might think it’s really 2, but my daughter is new to it so she thinks it’s a 10. But our feelings don’t change the fact that it is indeed 5. On the other hand, if I’m comfortable and experienced I might move faster, make better decisions unconsciously, etc. which actually decreases the hazard level.

Good thoughts, thanks for posting.

It’s perceived risk vs. actual risk

I once watched one of my kids hurt himself, and did nothing about it. He was balancing on a shaky horizontal branch just off the ground. I saw him get ready to jump, and you know what I knew then – that the force of his jump would shoot the branch backwards and he’d fall on his face. But what should I do? Should I stop him and explain Sir Isaac Newton to him and caution him to always make sure the branch is stable or should I let him learn by experiencing physics and gravity on his own in a relatively safe environment? That’s the way we all learn, we make mistakes and we try not to make them again. My goal as a parent is to allow that kind of growth without letting them get into too much trouble.

Other than that, here’s to catching weather windows and getting after it.

I enjoyed the article Simon Geering shared because the dichotomy between “Risk Taker” and “Mother” seems so pronounced to some, and less so for others. As for me, I lean more toward Hilaree O’Neill’s philosophy that “The time I take for myself to be in the mountains makes me a better mom.” And since bread-winning, lawyer moms are getting locked up for “tough love” in the poshest enclaves in the land—who is up for defining what a “good mom” looks like today? Yeah….I didn’t think so. As a mom, you know when you are on—and you know when you miss the mark—and I know that some time running talus, climbing, zipping through the forest on my hard-tail, walking in the woods at night, dodging Rocky Mountain lightning storms, letting kids belay me, traveling with Parasites I Haven’t Met Yet, surfing (new development), and just letting my kids see me limping, bleeding, sopping wet, or puking (but still smiling, damnit!) makes ME a better mom…and a believer in perceived versus inherent risks.

Shane McConkey, as an expert and visionary in his field, knew the inherent risks, mitigated them through his planning, preparation and fitness, and—in the end–was willing to accept them. Does that make it any easier on his family? No. But there are people who die on the toilet. Moms die and dads die…many of them from NOT being outside. Healthy risk taking is not only necessary, it is ESSENTIAL for brain development in our species. But, as the helmet thread demonstrates, it really IS amazing when you read “Accidents In North American Mountaineering” how many people just mush their brains up on stuff because they chose not to protect their melon. (So, logically, you HAVE to take risks to grow yourself a top notch brain…but you potentially waste your new-found functionality that you could/can pass onto your own spawn when you choose NOT to wear a brain bucket. As my four year old would say, “That is just silly.”)

I would love to further digress on Simon’s wondering of what “level of risk is acceptable to expose children to when they are participating in outdoor activities, and at what point the young person should be allowed some say in that decision…At what point does someone become able to assess risk for themselves?” (possibly because I’m That Mother Who Let Her Child Fall at the Playground and Break His Femur and Didn’t Sue Someone)—and, frankly, it ties right in with this risk-taker gender debate—because the latest brain research out there says our brains aren’t completely “cooked” (and able to make complete, logical decisions regarding risk) until our early-mid twenties (ladies) and mid-upper twenties (gents). I would guess, however, that the average age of parents in this forum is slightly older than the national average (24.9 for mothers)—thus making the biological models for risk taking behaviors somewhat moot.

So the question remains, as a mother do I continue to take the same type of inherent risks as I did before I was a parent? This brings us full circle and back to a topic parents agonize about constantly in a different context, to the Quantity vs. Quality debate. And this is my answer:

Do I still get the same number of days in the backcountry post-motherhood as pre-motherhood? No. Did I get the same number of days in the backcountry post-matrimony, post-full-time job, post-lease-agreements, et. al as I did when I was single? Hell no. The difference is this: When I get out there now, I don’t screw around, miss weather windows, nurse hangovers (unless you call the first year sans sleep one long-ass hangover), or linger by the fire—if I’m out, I’m on it–inherent risks and all. If I’m not, I operate from the “You Get To Know Things Better When They Go By Slow” philosophy of backcountry meanders…which works out pretty well when it’s your kids you are out there getting to know.