DURING MY FINAL hand exam before leaving for Asia, Colorado surgeon Ken Duncan, an extreme climber and kayaker, told me my wrist might not ever heal 100 percent, but I could "go for it now." No restrictions.
Just in time. My partners and I plan to attempt three unclimbed 20,000-foot peaks. We've been told that the most serious risks we'll face are avalanches, land mines, Russian helicopters, shoddy buses, and rabid dogs. On the bright side, at least I won't have to worry about bears.
I've had close encounters with grizzlies in Alaska, Canada, and Wyoming, and they always scare the hell out of me. For good reason. I'm slower than every other prey species in the woods, from deer to ducks, and would make a fine meal. I'll undoubtedly have future opportunities to be reincarnated as a large pile of steaming bear scat, but what are the chances, really?
In a word, slim.
Between 1980 and 1994, Yellowstone National Park recorded more than 600,000 backcountry overnights and hundreds of thousands of day hikes. In this period there were 21 grizzly-related injuriesfewer than three for every 100,000 visits. Since 1895, more than 130 million people have visited Yellowstone; five have been killed by grizzlies, the last one in 1986. Grizzlies do kill people now and then, butas it turns outthey are pathetically ineffective com-pared with more contemporary murderers, like cars, cholesterol, and cigarettes.
And what are the risks of being mauled by other backcountry predators?
While elk-hunting this past year in the Beartooths, I came upon mountain lion tracks in the snow. They were so large I thought at first they were bear tracks, and I spent the rest of the day anxiously glassing the cliffs above. I needn't have bothered. Since 1890, fewer than 100 people have been attacked by a mountain lion in the U.S., and 18 of them died. In short, the chances of being killed by a mountain lion while out hiking, biking, climbing, campingyou name itare statistically insignificant.
So, out in the wilds, what are we worrying about? The wrong stuff.
Not that we shouldn't acknowledge, even relish, perceived risks. What would climbing be without the threat of falling? What would the wilderness be without lions and tigers and bears? What would rivers be without whitewater?
So go ahead, revel in your fears. Just as long as you understand and are prepared for the real risks. Just as long as you don't forget that, in the end, it's not lightning or rapids, avalanches or equipment, rockslides or icefalls that are going to get you. It's you. On any adventure of any kind, you are the greatest risk to yourself.