The Advice
I was guiding a snowshoe trip for a local company and we were taking a little winter tour out in Central Oregon on what had started out as a beautiful clear day. Temperatures were in the mid to low thirties ( Fahrenheit) and we had been on a small looping trail system in some foothills along the eastern side of Hoo Doo mountain, using the mountain for a point of reference to guide us around the mixed maze of impromptu and groomed trails
The kind of people that sign up for these trips are usually just beginning their outdoor experience, they are accustomed to some exercise, but not really athletic. So time on the trail, especially in fatiguing conditions like snow shoeing, is usually limited to 2 to 3 hours with short breaks.
I had a new “volunteer” working with me, a young guy in outdoor studies at Portland State University, who was anxious to be guiding his very first trip. We were shepherding about 15 people in a single group, and had made about two thirds of our loop and had been out a little over 2 and a half hours when clouds moved in and totally obscured our view of the mountain. We were also clomping along in several feet of snow on a ridge that was curling off to the north, and just as the visibility dropped, the ridge petered out and we descended into a small depression in thick lodge pole pines. This not only totally ended our visibility, but we also were totally cut off from GPS references, the GPS being an actual hand held device at the time, not an application on a cell phone.
In stiff, icy snow my snow shoe binding broke and hobbled me. So, falling behind the group, I called for a break. Ben,my enthusiastic helper, came back to see how I was doing with the repair and to get some guidance on where to take the group, which he was now leading. I summarized the situation for him. “We’re probably 30 minutes from getting back, we’re lost and cannot get directions, my snow shoe is broken, and more than two of our folks are pretty exhausted. A couple more have had nothing to drink, even though I’ve urged them to stay hydrated, and the woman who doesn’t speak English is starting to look more than a little scared. So here’s the plan. Whatever you do don’t look like any of this is true. Show utter confidence in going whatever direction you choose, let everyone know you’ve got this and look like you’ve done this hundreds of times.” Of course he had to say that this was his first time doing any of this, so I informed him that this should not ever come up as a topic when you’re The Guide.
So Ben left me behind to tinker with zip ties and a broken binding, he led the group to the highest ground we could see through the trees, just about out of site for me, but less than a mile away. He was the ultimate pillar of confidence; he traipsed right up the hill and waited until the rest of the group could climb up behind him. I rigged the binding, replacing the torn plastic and as a result zip tying the snow shoe directly to my boot, but got going again. The shoe was permanently tied on but it reliably worked, so I radioed to Ben and said “Wait up, I’m coming.” Just as I made the rise of the hill and caught the now pretty-tired group, the clouds broke and there below us, in a shimmering moment, was the parking lot and our waiting van.
At the Trade Association of Sea Kayak Symposium, maybe half dozen years later, I was making the rounds on Officer’s Row – where all of the big time dealers set up barbeques to attract retailers and their shop keepers. Officer’s Row was once housing at Fort Worden, a retired military base that had become an annual venue for the event. During the event the dealers all attempted to outdo one another with the best keg of beer, the best barbequed ribs, or the most amazing side dish. So it was common to just go down the quarter mile long row of rented houses and try a little bit of everything.
I think I was at house number three, working my way along with an outstanding pork rib, when someone called out my name and waved. It was Ben and he came over to me holding a beer and shaking my hand with the other. I gratefully remembered him with a smile. He said “Remember that crazy snow shoe trip when we nearly got lost and your snow shoe broke? Because I remember it all the time, and that was pretty amazing.” Well I had a memory or two about that trip, “amazing” was not high on the list of words I would use to summarize it. But he made me smile again.
Turns out Ben had gone on to become an outdoor writer. He was planning a couple of international trips and had even acquired a sponsor to fund most of his adventures. I was impressed. He said he would have never had the courage to go and ask for those sponsors but for what I told him on a cold winter’s afternoon, standing in a cloud covered depression among the dormant lodge poles. “Show utter confidence in going whatever direction you choose, let everyone know you’ve got this and look like you’ve done this hundreds of times.”
Ben had taken this small bit of advice, intended to give others confidence around him, and made it pay off in life.