Caution is alpine companion of climbing grad, prof b ~ Cynthia D. Stowell Gel a couple of mountain climbers in the same room at the same time and the air is thick with both bravado and camaraderie. "WJ,f stories" fly back and forth. other climbers come up short, and in-jokes ericH knowing snickers. II was all there when PSU chemistry professor Dayid McClure and Hillsboro attorney David Rich ('75) shared the same room recently. But there was another element presenl, 100. Caution laced the conversation of the two active members of Portland Mountain Rescue. It has only been two months since the disastrous Oregon Episcopal School climb on Mt. Hood, which ended with nine people dead and two rescued. McClure and Rich were still feeling the emotional effects of their involvement in that sec1rch and rescue operation. But theirs is not a newfound respect for the mountains and the elements. The lure of dazzling glaCiers and rocky pinnacles for the two climbers is tempered by a certain conservatism. "If your aggression and your willingnes!> to gel to the top at any COSI compromises common sense, you're asking for real trouble," said McClure, who h3S climbed off and on since 1960. "The first objective is 10 have fun," added Rich, a 13-year veteran. "The second objective is to come back alive. The third objective is, ir at aJi possible, to bag Ihe summit so you don't have to go there again. You can go somewhere else and have lun." " I never worry about whether I get to the summit or nol, to be honest wilh you," said McClure. "Many limes when the weather was perfecl J've just laid on the Hogsback (on Mt. Hood) while everybody else wenl to the summit because I thought it was more enjoyable watching the rock concert-the rocks coming off the Steel Cliffs up Ihere and crashing down." That was the closest either man came to waxing poetic about the alpine environment There was much more said about the dangers, the psychology and even the boredom of mountaineering. "Hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror." McClure used Ihose words, which he attributed to a 707 pilot after a tranS-Atlantic flight. to describe Ihe re-.'Vards of mountain climbing. "It's quite funny. You can have hours and hours of misery ... and when you gel back the next day you start talking to your friends about whal a grealtrip it was and you don'l remember that 90 percent of the time you were complaining and sniveling the whole way." Rich, who listens to a radio during non-technical ascents (" a Walkman, because I respect other people's right 10 be bored"), slX>ke of other IU&r 6 / PSU Perspective, Summer 1986 PSU grad David Rich ('75) was ftluipped with ~ smile 011 a recent trek to the summit 01 Mt. Hood {lelt}. On a more grim mission, PSU chemistry prolessor Dayid McClure (below, (ronl) helped transport if rescued climber (rom ., military helicopter to if makeshift emergency treatment center at Timberline Lodge. Rich and McClure both assisted in the search and rescue effort (or the eleyen Oregon fpiscopill School climbers lost on Mt. Hood I.,st ~ - - " ' __'-'_J< May. rewards. "It's some sort of personal accomplishment. particularly if you gain the summit. You have to be really driven, because you don't compete with anybody but yourself. 'How far can I go before I absolutely have 10 have my friend carry my pack?' " To understand the why's of mountain climbing is perhaps to look al Ihe kinds of people who do it. "Climbers are egomaniacs," offered McClure. "Type A personalities," Rich added. McClure also sees some social distinctions. "Most people wno climb are basically your while-collar, welt-educated, upper-middle-class (types). They tend to be the more leader-type personality." Climbing a mountain might be inspired in part b ~ ' ego, but climbing it safely and returning home requires the suspension of some of that ego, Rich feels. " If you've got two routes 10 go, one more egotistical than the olher, I'll alway!> take Ihe least aggressive routc. Hey, I've got three kids. Besides, if I killed myself, my wife wouldn't let me go anymore." Why do two such cauliou!> men take the risks at am "Neither one of us feels Ihat when we go out we're risking our lives," answered McClure. "There's no way I'm going to go out on a climb and say I've got a 50-50 chance of survival. If I don't believe it's essentially 100 percent, I'm not going. And I'm sure if you were to ask (jim) Smolich and (Alan) Pennington, who just died on K2, they would have told you the same thing." To some extent, the proper equipmenl can minimize risks, but McClure and Rich agree Iha! climbers can put too much faith in technology. "There's a tendency for people to think-this recent incident on MI. Hood, for example-if we could be better equipped, that would not happen to us," said Rich. "If you really want 10 spend megabucks, you can buy clothing that you can survive a storm like Ihal in, but you'd have to have a sherpa to pack il all around. And you still might freeze." "What people are trying 10 do is substitute technology for common sense," continued McClure, who confessed that in his early days of climbing he used to go to his favorite outdoor store just to "fondle pitons." McClure has doubts about the current drive to equip all MI. Hood climbers with transmitters, which he feels are invitations to taking unnecessary risks. '·If you pit technology against the mountain, the mountain is going to win every time," Rich added soberly. About 10.000 people pit themselves against MI. Hood annually, according to McClure. " It amazes me that we're not called oul every weekend," he said. As it is, Portland Mountain Rescue (PMR) gets about six calls a year, of which two or three turn into actual missions. Because there are relatively few peaks near Portland, PMR, which is the largest of Oregon's three mountain rescue units, isn'l as busy as some other western units of the National Mountain Rescue ASSOCiation, indicated McClure, a PMR board member. PMR volunteers are called into action by sheriff's departments when people are lost in hazardous terrain involving high angle rock, ice and snow. It would be too expensive for counties to maintain their own mountain rescue unit!> for a handful of operations each year, said Rich. Using volunteers saves taxpayE't'S' money and en!>ures that mountains will stay open and free to the public, according to PMR literature. That puts the financial responsibility squarely on Ihe 100 or so members of Portland Mountain Rescue. "When you get used as little as we do, you don't generate (much) public support, so you live on a very limited budget," said Rich. "We h.1d somebody selling garbage bags for us. That's pretty wimpy, when an organization thai has .1 function as important as thi!> one does has to rely on the sales of garbage bags to raise funds." The garbage bag money boughI PMR its first official vehicle, however. A $19,000 grant that McClure helped win from the Murdock Foundation was used to equip the truck. "That truck, fitted out with all the gear, has done more for our image than any other Single thing," noted McClure. "And ii's increased our response time immeasurably." McClure and Rich were two PMR members who piled into the truck very early Tuesday morning, May 12, after a call on McClure's beeper from the Clackamas County sheriff. It was the beginning of four harrowing days on Ihe side of Mt. Hood in search of ten leenagers and three adults on a climb sponsored by Oregon Episcopal School. McClure and his wife Cheryl, also a mountain climber and PMR member, shared with a third person Ihe vilal iob of coordinating search and rescue base operations at Timberline lodge, while Rich spent 24 hours trudgins through the snow in b e l o w ~ f r e e l i n g , white--out condilions. " It was really a very emotional situation, I guess because it involved children," said McClure, who has Continued on page 15
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