The number one overriding goal of any backcountry adventure should be "live to go another day." The mountains, valleys, canyons, and cliffs will be there, do your best to ensure you are too.
We've all hiked with that guy. You know, the person I'm talking about, the one with a purpose, a mission, a profound destiny to make it to the top of the mountain or the end of the trail, to complete whatever is placed before them, no matter what, no matter the cost. While that may be an admirable quality in everyday life (I don't think it is, but I digress), such an attitude can kill you in the world's wild places. Having a process to know when to turn around and go home makes it easy to avoid those compounding mistakes that could end up costing you your life. I call it my "Three Strike Rule."
It's not my rule per se; however, while talking with my brother-in-law one day (private pilot), we discussed plane crashes. Stephen told me that most plane crashes could be traced back to bad events that eventually led to the crash. In other words, it wasn't (in most cases) a single catastrophic event. Instead, it was a series of events, decisions regarding those events, and reactions over time that eventually led to the crash.
As a solo hiker/climber, I had already faced several close calls. On closer inspection, I decided that what Stephen told me I could apply to my adventures and hopefully reduce my risk in some of my undertakings. Although the goal was simple "live to climb another day," the difficulty was getting rid of my pride. As children, we are constantly taught that quitting is taboo. "Quitters never win," "Winners never quit," and my favorite, "Fall seven times stand up eight." In the backcountry, a single fall can get you killed. Therefore, knowing when to quit is not only prudent but necessary to accomplish the goal.
Over time I found several situations which I started to count as strikes; I encourage you to create your list based on your adventures. I recognize that some exploits like canyoneering are not conducive to turning around. However, before pulling that first rope in the canyon, ensure everything runs smoothly. If you've already burned through two strikes before the first descent, I'd think carefully before continuing.
Here is a list of situations I consider a strike.
1. I Forgot something. We've all done it. Looking through the car's trunk, we can suddenly visualize our extra water bottle sitting in the refrigerator, getting cold. We were sure we would remember it, but dang, that cold water would taste good on the hike. Strike one.
2. Being Underprepared. It's colder than you thought it might be as you shoulder your pack for the hike. Hopefully, it will warm up soon. Strike two. Under-prepared is no way to start a walk or climb—the same for socks, gloves, and equipment. Don't do it if you stare at a Class 4 descent without a hand line.
3. Late start. Starting after your planned time is more subjective, depending on the situation of calling it a strike or not. While the group was hiking to the summit of Lady Mountain in Zion National Park, I knew we would be in trouble as part of our group arrived almost an hour late. We needed to be more than halfway up the mountain before the sun came, and now we didn't have a chance. Out of drinking water, it was one of the most brutal ascents I've made. Groupthink is dangerous; thankfully, no one suffered any ill side effects from dehydration or heat stroke.
4. Intuitive route finding. If I backtrack too often, I'll chalk up a strike to route finding. Generally, finding a route to the top of a mountain peak is intuitive for me, and when I find myself guessing wrong on my direction of travel forcing me to backtrack and find a different path, I count it as a strike.
5. Going off route. Utilizing text-enabled or breadcrumb GPS makes course changes less critical than they used to be; however if you printed a path and left it with someone and have no way to update it in real-time, stick to it! Otherwise, go home; three strikes or not. If something should go wrong, they will be looking in the wrong place.
6. Difficulty level. Know your limits. Knowing your limits is especially critical when hiking solo. When trekking with a group, the difficulty level should be no higher than your weakest partner. In other words, the weakest partner doesn't necessarily need to lead the pitch; however, they should be able to follow entirely on their own (while utilizing expected safety precautions, of course).
7. Fatigue. It's important to remember that in the death zone (20,000 feet elevation and higher), the climbers that die often die on the return trip due to exhaustion. While I never expect to hike in the death zone, fatigue can lead to stumbles and disastrous falls. If the hike is more than your capabilities, consider it a strike early to have a realistic assessment of your current conditions.
These are the main strikes I use while solo hiking, the combination of any three will be enough to turn me around, and believe me, there is nothing more demanding than turning back when the summit is in sight. But, first, do yourself a favor (and those in your party if group hiking), speak up, and speak out; more than likely, you are not the only one feeling the effects of constant missteps and errors. So put aside your pride and turn around, go home, put your feet up and recognize there will be other days when you'll reach the summit without a single strike.
Written August 23, 2022