Of loneliness, individualism and idealism

The lone wolf. Most people are already getting shivers down their spines. The negative connotations of this buzzword clearly have the upper hand when you associate it with alpinism - or with "mountains" in general. Why? And why should we worry about it? One thing should be clear: You simply aren't meant to be alone on the mountain, are you?

I go on +/- 140 ski tours every winter, around 120 of them off-piste and around three quarters of these alone - unfortunately, the dog doesn't count as a companion in this case. That sounds like a lot of loneliness and abandonment, for others possibly egoism or individualism. Still others say that you are an "outsider". First of all: every aspect plays its part in me going it alone - but there's a lot more to it than that!

It starts with my schedule: as a student, I can organize my time so that I can often get to the mountains during the week in the mornings. However, most of my friends are at work and can't keep me company. As you know, the weekend is always short, often blessed with ski touring-unfriendly weather conditions and, in addition, the hard-working taxpayer often has to schedule in errands that have to be done on weekdays.

The next thing is the technical and fitness level. When you're on the road so much, not many people can keep up - unfortunately. A tour at a subjectively comfortable pace with friends brings variety - but going on every tour with nose breathing is also uninteresting for someone with sporting ambitions. This is where selfishness comes into play. I don't like walking with weaker colleagues any more - even if we get along well. Being considerate" is not always easy when you have reached a certain level. These two points already rule out 99% of ski tourers as potential partners.

I started mountain sports when I was 16. Back then, there was hardly anyone who wanted to join me, probably due to my age. So I was out on my own a lot right from the start. My parents are (were) also enthusiastic mountaineers. They now don't have the time due to their jobs. That's why I set off on my own, always accompanied by my father's advice. That's probably how I got used to being alone to a certain extent.

Risk minimization is the most important part of the planning for all my tours. I prefer to talk about "risk optimization" - because it is only partly a reduction. You don't always (or is it just me?) take the lowest possible risk, often due to your mood on the day, which has a significant influence on your willingness to take risks. The important thing is to be aware of the risk you are taking and weigh it up for yourself. If you are aware of a high risk, it is less bad for me than not being aware of the risk and not actually knowing exactly what you are getting yourself into. Unfortunately, I see misjudging or "not judging at all" far too often - and if these people are still unteachable, they are dead to me as a tour partner.

Risk is known to be the product of probability of occurrence x extent of damage. In my opinion, the probability of an avalanche occurring (probably the main reason for discussing "being out alone") varies from person to person. It depends on the risk tolerance of the person alone, the risk tolerance of the accompanying person and the risk tolerance of the two of them together. In my personal experience, it is somewhat higher in a group, as there is always a certain amount of peer pressure, no matter how you put it. You don't want to deprive your companion of a nice slope or a nice day. This means that the probability of occurrence cannot be generalized. The extent of damage, on the other hand, is lower in the group according to the probability calculation: The fact that it is unlikely (when skiing steep slopes individually) that both or all of a group will be buried is the main argument against single tours in winter. Rescuing companions is still practically the only way to survive a total burial and thus reduce the "extent of damage". Alone, you have the worst cards in an avalanche - period.

I now have a handful of good friends with whom I share my passion for the mountains - where it fits in terms of fitness and technical level, as well as human nature (including risk optimization). I go out with "others" from time to time, but rarely. I'm very happy with the way things are and I don't put myself under any pressure to get to know lots of people or to arrange tours with less well-known fellow climbers who don't have the same chemistry. I still really enjoy being alone on the mountain.

But I believe that being alone changes everyone in a negative way. You create your own (false) "reality" - you become detached from reality. That's why solitude is a good place to visit but a bad place to stay. One of my closest touring colleagues used to say: "Mountain friendships are friendships for life." What connects you on a mountain tour can hardly or only slowly be experienced in "civilian life". The mutual consideration, the shared enjoyment of the scenic beauty, the awareness that the other person is there for me if something should happen, the mutual reassurance during (actually unplanned) "hairy" actions.

The mountain is one of our last free spaces. Fortunately, it is (mostly) our own responsibility to bear the consequences of our decisions - both positive and negative.
Solo hikers are rarely "madmen" - we know exactly what we are getting ourselves into and I don't think most of us are any less attached to our lives because of it.

In the end, it is up to each individual to decide whether they want to go it alone. There are arguments for "solitary" mountaineering (timing and technical coordination, finding peace and quiet, runner's high, individualism, egoism) and for practising our passion together (camaraderie, friendship, support and assistance).

Never the less, there is one thing we should NEVER forget - whether we are traveling alone or not: Our decisions affect not only us, but also the people who are waiting for us, by whom we are loved. You don't just belong to yourself.