|
Erik K.
Hobbie adds to the fine collection of reaction emanating
from the recent Pauzé and Barnes Torngats tragedy. His
thoughts echo those of many readers on risk, reward and
responsibility in northern adventure travel.
Although
not a paid subscriber to Che-Mun (just haven't got around to
yet, but will eventually), I have followed what has been
available on-line ever since I became aware of you some years
ago, and have enjoyed the HACC on-line accounts very much.
You do a very
professional job of relating your wilderness river experiences
to the public and should be commended for it. If it weren't
for zealots like you who fork out big bucks, time and energy
to do these trips, the far north of Canada might be viewed as
merely a big resource pool by the powers that be, and it is
doubtful its integrity would remain intact.
I have been
following the tragic story of the loss of two paddlers in
Labrador, and after reading the letters recently posted by
Cliff Jacobson and Alan Kesselheim, I felt compelled to “give
my two cents worth,” so to speak.
I do this
from what I feel might be viewed as a somewhat unique
perspective. I ask you to make of it what you will, and, if
you have time and are so inclined, to give back your two
cents. If you don't have time to read this, I understand and I
still think you guys are awesome.
A
"pre-Cambrian junkie" since I was a wee kid, I did my first
arctic trip in 1978 when I was 18 and have been a hopeless
zealot ever since. With the exception of a seven year stint
in my 20's during which I was completely obsessed with
white-water slalom and the goal of trying (unsuccessfully) to
secure a spot in C1 on the US whitewater team, I have gone
back again and again, often running the same rivers
repeatedly. The ‘unique’ aspect of my perspective is that
since 1988, I have gone ‘late’, almost always in September,
either alone or with one other much less experienced person.
As an example, I was alone in the barrens NE of Yellowknife on
Sept. 11 2001, on just the second day of a 16 day trip that
took me down the Barnston River to McLeod Bay (I listened to
all that madness unfold on a short-wave radio, often with
tears running down my cheeks). I sought that river out for
the unique whitewater challenge that I knew it would offer,
just as I did with the nearby Waldron, McKinley, and Beaulieau
Rivers, all of which I have visited in September, sometimes
repeatedly. Like you, I would categorize myself as an
‘expert’ but am uncomfortable with the term. This year, my
wife and I will run the Thelon from Lynx to somewhere near
Beverly, starting Aug. 26 and finishing Sept. 14. We will
carry both a sat phone and a VHF radio. |
I have done this more or less in obscurity, and I have made
mistakes along the way. On one early trip I bit off more than
I ended up being able to chew and had to arrange and pay for
an expensive charter to get out in time. I have met loads of
skepticism, and even scorn, from resort owners and bush pilots
(although the folks at Air Tindi seem supportive and
understanding). I realize that many people like yourself
would view this as irresponsible madness and would immediately
ask "why"? All I can say it is that it has nothing to do with
risk and testosterone and everything to do with love. I am
obsessed with that country, that season, and all that it
entails. When I die (at a ripe old age, I hope), it is my
wish that my remains will end up there, on an esker near
treeline, so that I can watch the colors turn and the caribou
pass forever.
Why that season? It is cold and wet and miserable and
dangerous, but what stands out from this, at least for me, is
the color, the lack of bugs and other paddlers, the dynamic
nature of the wildlife, the aurora . . . I could go on. To me,
there is nothing more inspiring than waking up to a thick
coating of hoarfrost on the belly of a carefully overturned
canoe. All of this wouldn't matter for a hill of beans, except
that last year myself, my wife, and four others ran the Seal
River from Nejanilini to the Bay in the second half of
September, and one of the group members (a professional
photographer from Ely MN) was contacted by Canoe & Kayak
magazine to write a story, which she and I did together (it
was just submitted for publication).
Upon reading your editorial on Risk and Responsibility,
the thought hit me . . .”what if our glowing account of this
trip inspires someone to run the Seal in September and they
die of hypothermia? ...will we be accountable?” Fair question,
and one which has kept me up at night since. Although we give
a warning at the end of our article, there is nothing to stop
the inexperienced from doing just that.
It is my belief, however, that as our sport grows in
popularity, more and more people will run these rivers, and I
predict that 20 years from now, late and early season canoe
trips in the far north will be common place. A result of this
increase in use will undoubtedly be, increasingly, more tragic
stories such as that of Susan Barnes and Daniel Pauze. But as
long as people such as yourself convey their adventures with
the proper sense of respect for the country, the residents,
and the inherent risks, we are absolved. It is merely a
growing pain of an activity that is by its nature quite risky.
Although some will surely view this growth with disdain, I
believe it will be what ends up saving vast chunks of the far
north from development, and that is something we can all live
happily with.
Happy trails and keep up the fine work. |
