Routinely we hear about mountain climbers getting stranded on high peaks with blizzards hampering their rescue. Not only do they put their lives in jeopardy, but they also endanger the lives of rescuers.

It’s said that experience is the best teacher. I’m sure there is some application for that theory here. But I think “learning from others’ mistakes” is more profound in these events.

I’m having difficulty finding sympathy for these yahoos. I guess it’s because it just sounds so dumb to me to go out and very dangerously attempt to scale a mountain when there’s nothing at the top but ice and snow. And then they act surprised that they’ve been caught in a snow storm when there is so much precedent to clue them. These events make good fodder for movies, but in real life, there is no soundtrack.

Now if these people were climbing up there to bring down a cure for cancer or some magic stone that when rubbed by the pope would result in world peace or even the demise of baggy pants, I could buy into it.

So the other night on the Discovery Channel I watched a group of people climbing a mountain. The wind was whipping snow so thick it looked like an explosion in a biscuit factory. The storm forced them to stop and make camp, which was a stretch of that notion because their little tent looked like it was about to become a kite. Needless to say, they did not build a fire, roast marshmallows and sing “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore.”

One climber was suffering from possible frostbite and another was fighting hypothermia. The climber doing the narrating could barely speak due to his exhaustion. It went like this:

“I …. I uh .. .I don’t know if Charley can hold out … hold out until tomorrow. His fingers are turning black, and the wretched cold won’t allow … won’t allow us to sleep.”

Obviously these people never watched movies about the Abominable Snowman. Or as George Bush might say, “The Abdominal Slowman.”

The next day helicopter crews attempted to get them down. Some kind of down-draft or up-draft was about to make the helicopter crash. Then I got to wondering, where is the camera crew in all of this?

I know that some people embrace the philosophy that they climb it “because it’s there.” It’s man versus nature.

I can partly relate to that philosophy. I eat fried chicken “because it is there.” I don’t have to be hungry. But I would not climb one of those mountains to get a bucket of fried chicken. There’s plenty just down the street.

Now I think I would like to try white-water rafting. It goes down hill. You just have to hang on. And I realize that this sport has some element of danger, but then so does driving on our nation’s highways. In white-water rafting, I don’t think I would be putting too many other people’s lives in danger if the raft got a hole in it. I think the element of misery would far outweigh the element of danger.

And I didn’t say I wanted to travel down “Dead Man’s Gorge” where only two rafters have succeeded the journey. Nosiree. “Crippled Man’s Gorge” or even “Gorge Where Man Walks With Slight Limp,” would fulfill my desires, I’m sure.

I do not want to bungee jump, sky dive or go charging into a bikers’ bar fussing about where Shirley parked his tricycle. I think there is great potential for any of these events to not end well.

For the most part, I am not an adrenaline junkie. I established that very early in life. Jumping off the high dive was rush enough for me, though I did go into a bikers’ bar once to ask directions. Turns out they were nice guys and gave good directions. But then if they had given bad directions I would have just lived with it. I would not have gone back to ask Shirley where he bought his map or if he got his tattoos on an installment plan?

(Dwain Walden is editor/publisher of The Moultrie Observer, 985-4545. Email: dwain.walden@gaflnews.com)