This is the memoir of the guy who went climbing in an isolated part of Colorado without telling anyone where he was going, had an 800 lb boulder fall on his hand, and was trapped in a narrow canyon for six days with one day’s worth of food and water before he finally saved his life by amputating his arm with his multi-purpose tool, then climbing out and hiking for miles.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

I saw this book when it came out, but never picked it up as I assumed that it would be a poorly-written “as told to” with a magazine article’s worth of content telling the story I bought the book for plus a book’s worth of boring padding about where he grew up, who he dated in college, etc. rmc28, who gave it to me, assured me that it was not that. She was correct. Thank you very much! It is indeed very good and I liked it a lot.

I was pleasantly surprised by what a good writer he is. He’s also, at times, a genuinely original thinker. He was a mechanical engineer, and he didn’t just sit there under the boulder, he devised several MacGyver-esque mechanical solutions to get himself out, including a remarkable system of ropes engineered to try to lift the boulder off his arm. They didn’t work due to 800 lb boulder vs. ropes without pulleys operated by one man stuck in one position and only able to use one hand, but it was one hell of a good try and makes for fascinating reading.

This originality comes through in other places too, like when he speculates that the “life review” memories that sometimes flash through people’s minds in extremis are a last-resort backup system to fight-flight-freeze, and are there to provide motivation to make one final effort for survival on behalf of their loved ones or their possible future, when otherwise people might just give up and die. I never thought of it that way before, but it’s a fascinating idea and he convinced me.

The only point where the book falls flat is at the very end, where he visibly sees the end in sight and rushes through “Recovery sucked but I was back rock-climbing two months post-amputation and I went on Letterman and my family is awesome and I learned important life lessons from the whole thing, bye!” in about two pages.

Otherwise, it’s a well-constructed, thoughtful, page-turning read, with lots of suspense and surprises. If all you know is the news accounts, there was a lot left out; at least, there was a lot that I hadn’t known. For instance, why he waited so long to cut off his arm; it turns out that the obstacles went way beyond the obvious and into seemingly not even being physically possible, as did how/why he finally did it.

Ralston can also be pretty funny, sometimes in a dark way but also more casually. There’s some beautiful nature descriptions. The depiction of how one’s mind works under imminent but prolonged threat of death is extremely well-depicted and absolutely accurate to my own experience and what I’ve heard from others. If this isn’t something you’ve experienced yourself but you want to write about it, his book would be an excellent resource.

Obviously, it contains an account of an amputation (not that long but quite vivid). Also a color photo (easy to avoid if you read in paper copy— it’s toward the end of the second photo section).

Getting back to the original news story, I suspect that a lot of people had the same two thoughts I did when it first came out: “Holy shit, that guy is hardcore,” and “Why the hell didn’t he leave a note saying where he was going?”

People who enjoy risk for its own sake tend to divide into two groups. There are the ones who take meticulous precautions to decrease the risks that they can control, and spend a lot of time contemplating “What should I do if…?” so when they need to take action on a split-second’s notice, they won’t waste precious time thinking, “What should I do?” or rush into foolhardy action.

Those types of people, by which I mean me, find it very annoying when non-risk-takers call them reckless, because in their minds, they are the opposite of reckless. When they hear “reckless,” they don’t think of NASCAR racers or bomb defusers. They think of Aron Ralston. Not because of the boulder, which could have happened to anyone. Because he didn’t leave a note.

The other type of risk-taker is impulsive, doesn’t take extensive (or sometimes even basic) precautions, and trusts in their skills and strength to get them out of trouble. At best, they’re jaw-droppingly badass; at worst, they’re living out their own personal Jackass. Based on his own book, this is indeed Aron Ralston. At least, it was at the point when the boulder fell on his hand. (He becomes much more level-headed once it is literally impossible to not spend some time sitting and thinking.)

When I first heard his story on the news, after my first uncharitable thought, I figured maybe he’d gotten lost and people were searching the wrong area, or he normally told someone where he was going but just hadn’t that one time. Nope, it was exactly like it sounded like: he went climbing in a dangerous and extremely isolated area alone, without telling anyone where he was going. Moreover, getting trapped with no one knowing where to search for him (or even when he was supposed to be back) was not an isolated incident, but the latest and most dramatic of a series of wilderness accidents either caused or exacerbated by his own actions.

But here’s what makes his book interesting: I’m just repeating what he says himself. Without either bragging or breast-beating, he recounts his history of recklessness, how he kept getting into accidents which he was then able to extricate himself from because he really was strong and brave and skilled, and how that reinforced his belief that he could do anything and get himself out of anything.

To write a good memoir, you have to let go of the desire to make people like you, and be honest about yourself to the best of your ability. Ralston’s memoir feels very honest. He was a bit of a privileged hipster dude who did a lot of reckless stuff, some of which affected others as well as himself, and kept on doing it out of ego and a lack of belief in his own mortality. But he’s aware of that dynamic. And that’s a big part of what makes his memoir, which cuts back and forth from the bottom of the slot canyon to his life up to that point, unified and compelling rather than padded and dull. It’s not a random collection of anecdotes, it’s a character portrait leading up to the ultimate in-character story.

Back to those two types of risk-takers, death by stupidity is one of my ultimate horrors. I have never doubted my mortality. I totally believe that the world has teeth. Death is inevitable, but I don’t want to meet it thinking, “Why the hell didn’t I leave a note?” I take precautions largely so when I do, I’ll at least be able to think, “This could have happened to anyone.” If my car gets trapped in the bomb zone (this has actually happened), I want to be able to say, “I underestimated how far that was likely to extend, next time I’ll park farther away, but it was an easy mistake to make and the majority of us made it, including our team leader.”

But what’s that really about? Ego. I want to feel good and look good to others (as opposed to wanting to be liked), just in a different way from the reckless kind. I want people to think, “She went in with her eyes open and did everything right, sometimes life just hands you the short straw.” Ralston wanted people to think, “Man, what a badass, that guy lived to the fullest and followed his dreams without fear.” Neither of us were motivated to avoid the slot canyon and the boulder, we were motivated to avoid thinking badly of ourselves and imagining others thinking badly of us once we were sitting at the bottom. We just had different ideas of “badly.”

But that’s not why he was climbing mountains and I was going to crime scenes, it’s just how we approached the question of personal risk. The actual “why” was how it all felt to him, and that sounds a lot like how it all felt to me. He liked adrenaline, he liked nature, he liked using his body skillfully and pushing it to the limits, and he liked being the guy who lived dangerously. He was doing some stuff to show off, but that was mostly the careless parts; climbing itself was something he did because he loved doing it.

It’s hard to feel lucky in more than a very abstract way when you’re in the bottom of a canyon with a boulder on your hand. But there’s worse things to regret than not leaving a note. He could have never climbed at all, and kept his hand and skipped the trauma. But then he would have skipped his entire life.

No matter how hard we imagine it and wish they would, God and the Devil never come down to offer us a deal: your life if you devote the rest of it to good works and always leave a note, your life for your right hand, a takeback on the entire boulder incident if you also take back all the climbing you ever did. In real life, all we can do is evaluate what we would have chosen if there had actually been a choice. It always seems to come down to your actual life with the worst parts included, or an entirely different one with both the worst and the best parts left out. Ralston says he’d have taken the life he did live, exactly as it was.

I believe him. He still climbs.
sholio: sun on winter trees (Default)

From: [personal profile] sholio


Heh, when I lived in Illinois I developed a reputation as the person in the office you'd ask if you needed a screwdriver, jumper cables, etc, because I had all of that stuff in the trunk of my car and nobody else did. Coming from Alaska, of course, it was second nature to carry all of that around even when I was living somewhere that had a town every few miles. How could all of these people not have a heavy winter coat in their trunk?!
recessional: bare-footed person in jeans walks on log (Default)

From: [personal profile] recessional


And Illinois is not different enough of a climate for me to break the habit, totally. YOU COULD STILL GET STUCK IN THE COLD HERE!!!

I don't have a proper Trunk Kit here because of just how not-that-important it really IS, where I drive now, but it still itches and I need to get one settled out just so it'll stop itching! XD
kore: (Default)

From: [personal profile] kore


I don't have a car in Seattle, but even when I lived in ABQ which was MUCH less extreme than Santa Fe, I had flares in the trunk of my car. Did I ever use them? No, I never even had so much as a flat tire (for all the time I drove, I never even got a ticket, haha). But by God they were there, along with blankets and enough water for a couple of days and a little bit of nonperishable food, because everyone grew up hearing those stories about the woman who was stuck in her car for three days after a blizzard and survived by drinking melted water as it trickled through the window, or whatever. Or the people who went hiking out in Joshua Tree with a bottle of water and died of heat stroke. It just gets drilled into you.
loligo: Scully with blue glasses (Default)

From: [personal profile] loligo


I grew up in Michigan in the late '70s, early '80s, right on the border between suburbs and farm country. And all of that stuff was everyday common sense! Our cars always had water, blankets, snow shovel, extra gloves, etc. in the trunk. Pretty much anyone who ever left their house in the winter had a story of getting stuck in a snowbank on a country road, and even if you could pretty much be guaranteed that someone would be along in an hour or so, who wants to sit in a snowbank that long if you can dig yourself out?

I was arguing with my kids about this last month. Their schools don't send the kids out for recess if the weather is below freezing, so they balk at wearing heavy coats in the winter when they don't need them for recess. (I have a huge beef with the recess thing. I realize that because we have a lot of winter days *above* freezing here at the south end of Illinois, there are lots of low-income families who don't spend their limited funds on heavy winter gear. But I would rather the school have a huge closet of loaner gear than keep the kids indoors!)

Anyway, they were complaining, and I was insisting that they at least bring their coats in the car, and they were like, "Mom, exactly what do you think is going to happen?"

"The car could break down!"

"So we'll go to the nearest building. It's buildings all the way to school."

"But they're probably closed at this time of day!"

"So you have a cell phone."

"JUST BRING YOUR COAT BECAUSE I SAID SO."

My daughter dreams of moving to Alaska someday. I'll have to tell her that people who don't keep a coat in the car get turned back at the border.
sholio: sun on winter trees (Default)

From: [personal profile] sholio


I'll have to tell her that people who don't keep a coat in the car get turned back at the border.

Hahahaaaaa. Yes! It is a little-known fact but we do. XD Even in summer. It is Alaska, after all!

That reminds me of a story a friend told me once, about a time he and his dad drove from Alaska to somewhere in the Lower 48 states in the winter. There was a blizzard in Washington and when they hit Snoqualmie Pass, in the middle of the state, there was a trooper checkpoint where they were stopping cars, asking if they had tire chains and winter gear, and turning them around if they didn't. And he and his dad were like, what are we going to do? We don't have chains with us! Well, they got up to the front of the line, showed their Alaska driver's licenses, and the trooper didn't even ASK. Just waved them through.

(He said the actual driving conditions turned out to be pretty easy and they didn't need chains at all.)
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