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Looking at accidents in the Internet age
By Mark Scott-Nash
Friday, May 18, 2007 Early in the morning of May 6, mountain climber David Worthington lay among cold alpine rocks and snow, his body broken. He was at 13,000 feet on Humboldt Peak in the remote Sangre de Cristo range suffering from the results of a mountaineering accident. He and his unharmed partner, Caroline Moore, were alone in the rugged wilderness.
Caroline made David as comfortable as possible, and with a looming winter storm on the horizon, soloed down to Westcliffe to get help, which would not arrive until the following morning. That evening, he was helicoptered to a hospital, where he passed away. It was a tragic event with a sad outcome. It was uncommon, but certainly not unheard of in the unforgiving mountains. News of this kind usually results in a paragraph in a local paper, and is then forgotten. Not this time.
Worthington was a member of at least two online communities dedicated to discussion and information about Colorado's 14,000-foot peaks — 14ers.com and 14erworld.com. He posted there frequently under his screen name "Talus Monkey." He was well-known and liked, and at the first rumor of an accident on Humboldt last Sunday, there were several expressions of hope that it wasn't Worthington or Moore, also known as "USAKeller" on the Web sites.
Confirmation came on Sunday night (the day of the accident) that the victim was Talus Monkey, and he was alone on the mountain. Then the information firestorm began. All of it flowing notoriously freely as any on the Internet. The good, bad and ugly came out in an unimpeded geyser of speculation, rumors, hard facts, condolences and criticism.
Soon there was concern about the blizzard engulfing him, why the rescuers were not ascending that night, and just what happened. At 10:23 a.m. on May 7, a 14ers.com user reported that rescuers had found him in a near-whiteout. The time of the post was, incredibly, within minutes of when they actually found him.
The post reported the Custer County Sheriff's Office, which was in charge of the rescue, as saying "He is alive, he is well, they are with him."
But he was not well. At 9:29 p.m. that night, David's best friend posted the shocking news of his death. The hope over the previous 11 hours was upbeat as tidbits from the rescue progress came in. There was hope that he may have a speedy recovery, ready to join them on another 14er hike or swig down another Colt 45, his trademark beer.
Just one day later, Josh Friesema, a rescuer who struggled through the blizzard and was first on scene with David, posted a hastily written personal account of the rescue. This was unheard of in the mountain rescue world, where information is tightly controlled until all debriefing is completed.
In a span of three short days, almost all the information and commentary regarding this accident was out, and it's still there for all to see. That type of instant information was unimaginable twenty years ago. Unless you were related to or good friends with a victim, you might not hear for weeks or months that an incident happened, if ever.
In our current environment, it's not only the nicest or most sensitive comments that are posted. Everyone gets equal footing. It was ultimately the most honest and poetic expression of this tragedy. And this is the wave of the future.
Mark Scott-Nash's book, "Playing for Real: Stories from Rocky Mountain Rescue" is newly released by the CMC Press. E-mail Mark at: open.spaces@comcast.net.