Thrill-Seeking Buyers Beware, Do Your Diligence

With confirmation yesterday that a small submersible imploded not long after its attempted 12,500-ft. dive to the Titanic wreck, and the unfortunate deaths of its crew of five, speculation is rampant as to what happened, why would passengers take on such risk in the first place? For whatever reason, the world’s press has glommed on to the story, way beyond what it deserves, maybe because it ticked off all of the boxes – possible death, immense wealth, an intriguing search-and-rescue mission and the element of a shipwreck steeped in history.

As an adventure writer for three decades, I have taken on risk myself, so I know a little about the subject. Much of it has been in aviation (fighter jets to extreme altitudes and speeds, pulling big-time G’s – but always in the backseat – I am not a pilot) and on land (driving a Bugatti at 253 mph, climbing the Matterhorn), but I haven’t done much in the water. I did ride in a Triton submersible to the bottom of the Atlantic, a fascinating experience, but it was in a shallow part of the Bermuda Triangle and, again, I was just a passenger. We only went 1,000 feet down.

For me, the wealth-intersecting-adventure-tourism thing really started in 1986 with the popular book, ‘’Seven Summits,’’ by the late Snowbird Ski and Resort owner Dick Bass. He and the late Frank Wells, then Disney president, paid pro guides to take them up the highest mountain on each continent, becoming the first to do so. Both were in their 50’s, and neither were really climbers. The book inspired several armchair mountaineers to believe that they, too, could do something similar, if they had the money.

The craze spawned a number of mountain-guiding services, employing pro climbers, and also helped the poor citizens of Nepal, with the cash from climbing permits and employment for the indigenous Sherpa people.

In 1995, I had the honor of interviewing Sir Edmund Hillary who, in 1953 with Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, became the first to step foot on top of Mt. Everest, at 29,035 feet the world’s highest peak. At the time of the interview, Hillary predicted a scenario where a number of amateur climbers would be killed unnecessarily – just too many inexperienced folks on the mountain. He felt their motives to climb were mainly to go back home to boast about their accomplishment at dinner parties, and he didn’t approve.

A year later, Hillary’s suspicions played out. The 1996, highly-publicized “Into Thin Air” disaster killed several amateur climbers (and the pros trying to guide and save them) on Everest when a big storm slammed the upper reaches of the peak on summit day. Each amateur client had ponied up $65,000 to attempt the climb, many with sketchy qualifications.

At the time, I had been asked by the famous mountaineer Scott Fischer to join his Everest expedition as the documenting journalist. Outside magazine writer Jon Krakauer had defected to rival guide Rob Hall’s group, Scott told me, and he needed a Krakauer replacement.

I, of course, was flattered. I had climbed puny Mt. Kilimanjaro with Scott a few months earlier, and afterward he told me that Everest was in the cards for me. Wow. I had just received a good shot of adrenaline in Africa. What kind of thrill would Everest provide?

I ultimately declined Scott’s offer, though, feeling I was in no way qualified. I was also wary of the lack of skills in his group, particularly a rich socialite, and I told Scott so. Too much risk. Well, if you read “Into Thin Air,’’ Krakauer’s gripping account of the climb, you know what happened to Scott, Rob and the rest of them. If you haven’t read it and are interested in adventure, you should.

Since 1996, I’ve reported on adventure tourism in depth, keeping my eye on developments along the way, and interviewing all types of explorers, including Neil Armstrong, Reinhold Messner, Don Walsh and Chuck Yeager. Each had done an exploration first – had the right stuff, if you will – in so doing taking on great risk, too.

Common wisdom said that the ‘’Into Thin Air’’ mess would deter amateur climbers, keep them away from Everest. Nope. Since 1996, the mountain has seen thousands of amateur climbers, with lots of summits, but also a fair share of deaths, many unnecessary. The price to climb the thing has increased, too, to well over $100,000.

Along with the commercialization of mountain climbing, and advances in technology, adventure tourism in general has taken off. Today, if you have enough money you can fly to space, buy a seat on a race team and compete with semi-pros, dive to shipwrecks on the bottoms of the oceans.

To be clear, that’s fine by me, if you can afford it. The key is not to endanger others participating in your particular endeavor because of your lack of experience, what happened in 1996 on Everest.

What concerns me, too, is that often adventure clients, at least some that I know, wealthy or not, don’t properly scrutinize the outfits they’re putting their lives on the line with, or even understand the risks involved in what they’re doing. Some think that because it’s expensive, it must be safe. They read the glossy brochures.

How could a one-million-dollar space ride on a private rocket which lasts about 11 minutes not be safe? Or a half-day, $250,000 dive in a submersible to visit a deep historic shipwreck? After all, all one needs do in these situations is sit back while an expert pilot, or computer in the instance of the space flight, does all the work.

Here’s a question: Why take such risks in the first place. I’m not sure why others do it, but if I look inside of myself, I can decipher some of the reasons. My purpose as a journalist is to give the reader a sense of what it’s like to ride in the back of an F-18, bobsled with the Olympic team, take a bullet with a bulletproof jacket on, blah blah blah. Am I doing anything that hasn’t been done before? I don’t think so. Do I get a Guinness World Record for it? No, and while that might interest others, it doesn’t interest me.

I’ll go on to admit that I’m a curious person, and risk often goes along with curiosity. What’s it feel like to see a tornado up close? Adrenaline is addictive. But before I try something new, I look hard at the supplier of the experience, and at the risks involved. I try to differentiate between perceived risk and real risk. There is a difference. Then I ascertain how badly I want the experience. If I want it bad enough, I’ll take more risk. We all have different passions, and risk tolerances.

Anyhow, it’s complicated, nuanced. But money and exploration have always gone hand-in-hand, all the way back to early polar exploration and archaeological digs – and still do. A $750,000 dive to Earth’s lowest point, Challenger Deep at the bottom of the Mariana Trench in the Pacific, helped the submersible operator offset the cost of building his sub, which, in turn, helped support the deep ocean research that his company was doing. Blue Origin, by sending adventure tourists into suborbital space and charging a reported $1 million each, helps refine the company’s reuse concept of equipment, what with saving the booster and the capsule. Those are good things.

I’m not sure what else to say. I’m not going to play the blame game over the Titanic sub disaster, or jump on the bandwagon denigrating wealthy people for taking risks. What I will say is that curiosity is part of human nature. And, as I mentioned earlier, curiosity, trying something new, often involves risk. In fact, both Titanic film director James Cameron, who went to Challenger Deep in a sub he had built, and Sen. John Glenn, first American to orbit the Earth, told me in separate interviews the exact same three words when I asked what exploration meant to them: Curiosity in action.

That’s as good as any explanation that I’ve ever heard. It’s human nature, whether you’re rich or poor, to be curious, and therefore to take some kind of risk.

Oh, and by the way, I put down a deposit in 2010 to fly into suborbital space with Virgin Galactic, Blue Origin’s competitor. It’s a pretty risky proposition. Since people began going into space, it’s estimated that some four percent have died up there or while training to go. Delay after delay has set the VG program back, too, compounded by the crash of their spaceplane on a test flight in 2014, which killed the co-pilot. But, as a baby-boomer, space travel has been my ultimate bucket-list item, so my risk tolerance there is high.

Maybe my flight, if it ever happens, will be worth the risk. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll decide not to go. Time will ultimately tell.