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Logic of Adventure

by Nathaniel Bluedorn, Copyright February 12, 2008, all rights reserved. 1757 views

Several years ago, a friend asked if we wanted to explore caves at Maquoketa Caves State Park. In a moment of insanity, my brother and I agreed.

Rappel a Cliff

My shoes stick to the rock. My glove grasps the rope, controlling how fast I descend. My other hand squeezes the rappelling device.
  My instructor explains how nervous he was on his first rappel. I don’t believe him.
  I think, “God can’t be happy with me doing pointless, dangerous things like this. Maybe I should go back.” I lower my body another few inches. I look down.
  Okay, that was a mistake. “Move,” I tell my feet.
  The instructor encourages, “Right, keep up the momentum. Let out the rope until your head is below your feet . . . Take your feet off the rock . . .”
  “Good grief! How am I supposed to lower my head below my feet . . . Ahaaaa! Okay. I’m hanging. Now what?”
  “See you at the bottom.”

From 2005-09-11 Near Normal Grotto Vertical Picnic

Rappelling over a cliff teaches things a schoolbook could never teach. Rappelling stretches the brain so it can overcome indecision and uncertainty. This is practice for making risky decisions, like whether to move west with the wagon train, or whether to get married.

Before caving, I thought the words “risk” and “mistake” were synonyms. But adventure has taught me that walking over a cliff isn’t dangerous, if I have the right training and equipment. My only mistake is when I avoid my fears.

Ford a Mountain River

Herman: We’re crossing this?
  Mike: No way. We’ll be pulled downstream. This is a mistake.
  Clark: Guys, we knew we had to cross this stream when we started the hike. You’re being wimpy.
  Mike: Oh, I’m a wimp? Let’s get this straight. Nobody likes your attitude . . .
  Clark: Somebody needs to be the leader here. I’m just going to do what I know is safe. If you guys stay behind . . . I can’t do anything about that, can I?
  Herman: Guys, we need to stick together . . .
  Mike: No we don’t. I’m not tagging behind some idiot who has to cross a boiling river just because the map says to!
  Clark: I know when it’s safe and I know when somebody doesn’t trust me. Bye guys!

From 2006-03-30 Europe, Mountain Hike

When we’re lost with a bunch of idiots on the side of a mountain, that’s the moment to dig deep for something constructive to say.

Herman: Could we look for a shallower spot? I want to stay dry. If we hold hands when we cross, it might be safer.
  Mike: Okay. Sorry for getting irritated. I’ll try to cross if both of you want.
  Clark: I’m glad you guys finally recognize my leadership.
  Herman: We’re not following you. We’re just sticking together.

Making peace when peacemaking doesn’t seem easy – this is leadership. It’s called leadership because one person does more to conquer his anger or fear. This brings the team together.

When the toilet is plugged really bad, or when your mother has cancer but the family is afraid to tell her, these are moments to overcome fear.

Ski a Black Diamond

The mountain is busy with skiers. The wind increases as the lift carries me up. A sign at the top points towards the black diamond slopes. I pass green circles and blue squares and I wonder, “Why did I decide to finish the day with a black diamond?”

  I come over a bump and the mountain drops from under me. I try to slam on my brakes. Too late. My legs go into basic snowplow form as my mind screams, “Don’t do the snowplow!” I hate this feeling of no control.

  The snow hisses under my skis. My eyes look up from the distant bottom of the ski slope to notice a tree coming at me. “Turn!”

  I suppress this intense fear of pointing my skis straight down the mountain and I break out of the snowplow. I’m in control.

From 2007-01-09 Skiing Winter Park

When I’m controlled by fear, I can’t choose what to do. Skiing has taught me to see beyond that moment of terror to the next moment when I’ll be okay. This is scary. But this is faith.
Logic and Adventure

I was riding the lift up Steamboat Springs Ski Resort with friends when the conversation turned to the question, “What is the difference between brave and reckless?”

A friend explained how her missionary training taught her that God wants us to live a black diamond life for Him.

  “What is a black diamond life?” we wondered.
  “What is our rationale for adventure? Thrills? Pride? God?”
  “Am I the kind of person who should be doing this?”

I never asked myself these questions before I began outdoor adventures.

Am I a person who should take this college exam . . . or eat this jalapeño pepper . . . or change this baby diaper . . . or write this article? For me, adventure makes sense because it taught me to ask these questions. And God has helped me find answers that come from faith and not fear. That’s the logic of adventure.

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