Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

On Thursday we paddled over to Cullendulla on what felt like the first day of summer, warm, sunny, light winds, and practised some rolls. I ended up the last summer season with a pretty solid roll on both sides, but I started this season stiff and clunky, hanging upside down thinking “what is it I do now?” About a week ago, I’d blown my first roll, blown my re-entry and roll, and finally, after about three tries, I managed to re-enter and get up using that old stand-by the Pawlatta roll. I felt half-drowned but was, of course, fine.

Yesterday was better, a dozen or more rolls on my good side; I get up pretty easily but the roll feels stiff and clunky. I also managed 5 or 10 rolls on my off-side, although I did have to divert to a Pawlata roll a few times. That’s not bad, zero to 10 in one short session, which is a mathematically incalculable increase because if you multiply anything by zero you get zero.

The point of the previous two paragraphs is that failure must inform progress. You simply cannot succeed simply by trying harder if you’re strategy is wrong. My unbridled inclination on my off-side is to set up, panic, and pull on the paddle. Of course, this does not work, as my first few off-side attempts showed. One must instead, set up, calm the mind, and then use what-ever cue works to trigger a full sweep of the paddle, an appropriately timed hip flick with the head trailing and, then, you are up. This takes less than a minute and is over so quickly that you have to wonder what all the fuss was about.

If you are trying to improve, each attempt should feature a quick debrief so that you can correct errors next time around. Debriefing however, although something that we all acknowledge as vitally important generally deteriorates, almost immediately, into ego massaging or avoidance. Something about our frail and foible filled human minds means that actually admitting error is, even when the error was almost fatal, almost universally a shit show of excuses and platitudes.

And so, after four long paragraphs, I finally come to crux of the post, when a debrief is not a debrief but a group hug session and almost, apart from the warm and fuzzies that come from group hugs, virtually useless.

I wrote previously about the gentleman impaled by an ice axe and this morning (my time) The Sharp End Podcast had a live question and answer with the two protagonists. The story was briefly recounted but most of the podcast involved how the two “victims” were physically progressing now. The gentleman, and “bless him” (we all know “bless him” is a preamble to saying something less than complimentary) has recovered well and is incredibly optimistic, even talking about climbing Mount Denali (‘nuff said). The lady, however, has recovered less well both mentally and physically and, as she admits, her climbing days may be over. This is clearly not a win-win situation and anything that could have prevented this outcome is worth entertaining no matter how seemingly ridiculous.

Ninety-nine percent of the audience comments were group hug, warm and fuzzy, “love you” comments which are nice enough but completely unhelpful. This would be very similar to Doug saying to me as he watched me flop back into the water after a failed roll “big hugs, you got this, love you.” Kind of sweet, in a sacchariny fake sweet kind of way but does nothing to get my kayak right way up with me still seated in it.

A couple of people (one mysteriously called bramblerumblefumble) and I mean literally two out of a couple of dozen, asked about things that could have prevented the accident – the use of running belays, ice axe belays, placing pickets, etc. Gob-smackingly, even the host of the show used the phrase “coulda, shoulda, woulda” which like “bless her” is code for “Don’t you understand this was an accident, completely unpreventable and coming, like a bolt from god, out of the proverbial blue?”

Except it wasn’t. It’s clear that the two victims were NOT operating within a reasonable safety zone. They were both so close to the edge that falling over occurred in a fraction of a second. Accidents like these (both victims had extensive injuries) are costly, both from an economic point of view but also from lost opportunity, pain and suffering, ongoing mental and physical impairments. Putting myself in their shoes, if I could prevent something like that, with fairly simple actions, I would. I certainly hope I would not resort to “coulda, shoulda, woulda” justifications for not recognising my limitations.

In answer to the two questions about simple activities that could have prevented the accident, after the grimace inducing “coulda, shoulda, woulda” comment, both victims said that people do not normally use running belays, pickets, ice-axe belays, or any other sensible safety precautions on the terrain they were on. This is true, but most people may well be more competent than these two people, and most people do not fall and impale themselves on an ice axe. Alex Honnold just soloed a bunch of rock climbing routes in Red Rock Canyon during his HURT event. I’ve been on routes in Red Rocks when soloists climbed past my belays. That’s fine and perfectly acceptable if you are operating within a large margin of safety. If you are teetering on the edge, so tenuously anchored to the slope that you are starting to worry about how you are going to get down (victims words) or unable to pause for even a minute or two, you do not have the margin of safety to operate like Honnold, soloing. Just because most people do not do something does not mean you should not either.

It’s like correcting a failed roll. It does me no good to keep doing the same thing and hoping for a different result. Here’s a couple of folks whose bench-mark skill is below the average climber on Mount Rainier (remember they are climbing the easiest route on the mountain). High fiving yourself and “coulda, woulda, shoulda” does not remove your weaknesses. Bless them, it’s time to step back, learn how to use an ice axe in both self-belay and self arrest mode, climb snow/ice slopes in balance, when and how to use pickets, how to identify a no-fall zone, etc. When they have done all that, they can return to the mountains and, like the average climber, summit Mount Rainier without the need for running belays, etc.