| The Weakening Bond |
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| Written by Doug Ammons |
| Tuesday, 01 July 2008 02:53 |
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Kayakers used to look out for each other. Do we still? People normally don’t talk about their kayaking in terms of ethics. However, in my experience kayaking is deeply ethical. One of the most powerful examples of this might be called the bond of the river. Ethics and kayaking seem an odd couple because kayaking is a recreation. Typically, people are in it to have fun, do their own thing, and escape from the normal workaday world. Almost by definition ethics is serious—evoking virtue, judgement and duty. This odd couple may even seem like two opposites—self-focused fun versus altruism. Ethics enters because even when we kayak easy rivers there is an element of seriousness. Although the water is nearly always forgiving, there are possible dangerous consequences that can’t be ignored. The danger and seriousness, and the commitment necessary to deal with them, transform the recreation into something greater. You’ll see this immediately if you answer the question of who you’d like to have as partners. What qualities do you think of? A few off the top of my head would be sense of humor, thoughtfulness, honesty, competence, concern for others, loyalty, commitment, and the willingness to endure hardship. We could make a long list and it would vary from person to person, but in general those are the kinds of things that would be on it. Nearly every one of them is an aspect of ethical behavior. Some might be called virtues, but all of them also have to do with how the person treats others. In a word, we’re describing the ethics of our ideal partner. If we would like those things from our partner, then we’d better be ready to give them ourselves. That actually is one of the fundamentals of ethics. You could be fancy and call it “reciprocity” or just note that it’s the old golden rule. The fact is, if you want a good partner, then you’d better be one yourself. The simplest ethical acts are things you learned as a kid—taking turns, for instance. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a turn on the swing or surfing a wave. They include going after a swimmer, helping with shuttles, getting lost gear back to its owner, or making room for somebody in an eddy. The most important one that underpins the others is helping those in need. This feeling, more than any other, forms the bond of the river. I always took for granted that such things were bedrock attitudes in kayaking. Nobody ever told me. It seemed obvious they were needed out there, particularly when things got tough. It was also the attitude I saw in the older paddlers I started with, and it fit my view of the world. However, over the past several years I’ve seen some disturbing situations that suggest there are a lot of paddlers who don’t think that way. Consider two examples. Last year, a novice swam at Brennan’s Wave, the popular artificial playspot in Missoula, and none of the 10 or 12 excellent paddlers in the eddy went after him. This wasn’t a benign swim—the water was high and fast, trees were in the current directly below, a downstream bank is rip-rapped, and the current runs through dense brush. There are only a few places where it’s possible to get out without struggling through thick willows in swift water. It would certainly be possible to get killed there, or at least have a really bad time. The one person who went after the swimmer was just putting on the river in a C-1. He chased him down, gathered his gear, and helped him out. I arrived just after it happened and came upon the C-1 paddler, who shook his head at the selfishness and lack of camaraderie he had witnessed. Nodding toward the eddy, he said “I just hope I never have to rely on any of those guys.” The second example is even more troublesome. Several years ago a friend of mine was in a group of eight or so paddlers surfing on a big wave. Many were out on the wave together when one of them did a fast cutback, shot over, and accidentally speared my friend hard. He flipped and was immediately swept downstream, struggling to roll, and in such severe pain he nearly blacked out. He struggled for a long time until he made it upright and got to the bank well down from the wave. As many as eight kayakers witnessed the incident. Nobody helped. The dude who speared him just pulled back into the eddy and kept surfing as if nothing had happened. It took my friend a long time to pull his boat back upstream, and then he lay in his truck in a lot of pain while the others kept surfing and paid no attention to him. He drove to the emergency room after he noticed he was peeing blood. The doctors found he had cracked ribs, a partially ruptured spleen, and internal bleeding. He was freaking out when he called me for advice, because he had no medical insurance and the doctors were talking about having to remove his spleen. I tried to calm and reassure him. Over the next few weeks they backed off the surgery while he racked up large medical bills from the exams. My friend never received an apology until several months later when a fax arrived from the person who speared him. He showed it to me. The main line was “I’m sorry you got hurt”—as if some outside force—like Zeus throwing a lightning bolt from Mount Olympus or a comet hitting the earth—had done it. Just so we’re clear about it, the critical thing was not an apology, but that no one came to assist a fellow kayaker. Unfortunately, in a situation where all the paddlers should have been looking out for each other, there was nothing but selfishness. There was no loyalty, no commitment, and no help for another. It was the negation of the bond of the river—and all for a few minutes of surfing. It’s one thing to have an attitude like that on a less difficult river, but it’s quite another on a hard river. As the consequences become more serious the ethical principles become sharper. At the upper end of the sport where one is dealing with hard Class V and VI in uncompromising surroundings, it is possible to reach a kind of absolute purity of ethics. Typically, the attitudes reflect that. The partners are closer friends, and share a deep, even fierce, sense of loyalty. I can say without hesitation that I have and always will put my life on the line to help partners—and I’ve found that true of nearly every serious paddler. It was seen last summer when Conrad Fourney’s partners jumped into a Class V rapid to try and pry him off the obstruction he was pinned on underwater. Conrad died, but his partners gave him everything they had short of their own lives, and that’s the way it has to be. The same was true of Dugal Bremner some years ago, trapped in a siphon, which two of his partners actually got sucked through underwater while trying to free him. Or Pablo Perez, who was wedged under an unseen log in the middle of a drop, with two partners jumping in to grab him and try to pull him loose. Or Tim Gavin, where even after he had died the rescue team risked their lives to recover his body. That is the bond of the river. It binds us together even in death. In my own career, while I loved the fun of freestyle and the challenge of whitewater, these other aspects are what most drew me to harder runs, and especially expeditions. There, I found the purity of friendship and commitment. I found a precious diamond. There was courage, honesty, and self-sacrifice for partners, while working toward a shared goal. I looked right in their eyes and knew exactly what they were thinking. There was no doubt, no hesitation, and no bulls---. I have never been to war and never been a soldier, but friends of mine did multiple tours in the Special Forces. They each told me they appreciated kayaking because of the intensity of whitewater, and the sense of loyalty and camaraderie that their teams gave them. I understand that. Kayaking is a sport. It is recreation and fun, but it can be much more. Class V is essentially synonymous with the likelihood of injury or death if a substantial mistake is made, and an arena like that can pull us to the greatest heights of moral behavior and the very best things of which we are capable. It may be that the ethics are clearest in serious whitewater, but it is in the easiest whitewater, and particularly with beginners, that our ethics may have even greater consequences. What we show those beginners defines what the sport is and what it will become in the future. It shouldn’t require a desperate life-and-death situation to understand the importance of treating other people with the care and respect each of them deserve. I would hope it is self-evident that when you understand the bond of the river, you will also understand the place of ethics in kayaking. Doug Ammons is a world-class kayaker and author of The Laugh of the Water Nymph (www.dougammons.com). Originally Published, Paddler July-August 2008 |
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