Risks Can Be Richly Rewarding.

Lately, I have been reading about how our Prime Minister Boris Johnson is planning to "burn all the Covid restrictions in the bonfire." That is, no longer having to self-isolate if tested positive for Covid, doing away with all mandatory mask-wearing, and the scrapping of free lateral tests. I thought I would witness a sense of national rejoicing, a resounding "Hurrah!" Instead, according to a poll, it looks like the majority of participants are more cautious, along with the scientists who make up SAGE, or Strategic Advisory Group of Experts, warning us all that this move towards pre-pandemic freedom was decided too soon.

Mt Huashan Trail leading to a monastery, China. Er, No!

Maybe it's this adverse to risk or the Woke culture, especially among those born after 1990, who knows. But here in the UK, where restrictions are comparatively liberal compared with other countries, I have seen facemasks worn outside in the street or one worn by a solo car driver. Or on one recent occasion, watching a graduate I knew, socialising maskless with a group of maskless men around a table at a leisure centre, then donning his mask as he rose to leave the group to make for the exit - after all, he should be cautious not to raise the risk in infecting any passerby...

Maybe it's just me. However, with this leisure centre chap, along with those wearing their masks in the breezy open-air or driving a car without any passengers, together with the warning from SAGE not to lift all restrictions whatsoever, warning us that the infection rate could rise by 80% if complete freedom were to be ushered in - indeed, all these fears, anxieties and sense of caution hangs on one word - Could.

Indeed, a new vaccine-resistant variant could infect the population, bringing death to up to 30% of those affected. Maybe a dangerous variant that has the potential to wipe out all mankind could arise from a Covid mutation.

Like the time I flew across the Atlantic. The plane could have suffered engine trouble or the pilot suffered a heart attack, and we all could have been in big trouble! Or what about the time, in 1978, to make a snap decision to hike the Bright Angel Trail to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and spend the night there? And a repeat hike in 1995?

During those hikes, I could have suffered dehydration, I could have been bitten by a rattlesnake, I could have fallen off the edge and plunged to my death in the ravine. I could have suffered cardiac arrest, I could have suffered from heatstroke, or I could have simply collapsed with exhaustion. After all, back in 1978, I was overtaken by three mules whilst still on the trail. The first mule was ridden by the park ranger. The second beast had some luggage on its back, while the third carried an exhausted female hiker. As with all hikers, I had to stand aside and allow the mules to amble past. Such a scenario could befall anyone taking on the challenge of the trail and facing potential hazards.

With all these possibilities, perhaps I should have stayed at home. One interesting scenario occurred whilst dining with some church-going friends at a restaurant. This was just before I flew out to New York in 1995. I made known to them that my main intention for visiting the States was to hike the Canyon. One mate gasped, But what about the rattlesnakes there? Implying: You're foolish to hike down into the Canyon. It's way too risky!

To which I replied, If I was to think in the same vein as you, I would never even leave the house!

I wonder whether this averse to risk is the reason why nearly all Christian singles I had known personally preferred escorted holidays, especially with a Christian firm such as Oak Hall? Or as one of my friends will be going with - the more upmarket firm Richmond's. 

I have nothing against escorted tours. In fact, during 2006, whilst on holiday with Alex my wife, we booked a day's ranger-led coach tour of the island of Lanzarote in the Canaries. I wanted to see more of the island than just the beach hotel we stayed at. And we did not have a car that many tourists hire at the airport. The tour was well-organised and included lunch at a large dining hall, not unlike a school or conference canteen. We've experienced some very interesting attractions, such as a pond that was deep within a lava tunnel, a decorative pool used only by the King of Spain, and some spectacular caves, along with one or two other points of interest, including wine tasting.

The whole holiday was a package. That is, both flights and the hotel were booked beforehand in one package, and we as clientele were looked after. But great as that holiday was, something was lacking. It didn't fit my kind of character.

Grand Canyon Hike, 1995. Colorado River.

For me, there is something about risk-taking that I find inspiring. For example, as a neophyte traveller outside Europe in 1976, I amazed many at my workplace when I announced to them that I was heading alone to the Middle East, specifically to visit the Biblical city of Jerusalem. Indeed, after arriving at Ben Gurion Airport, I took a taxi to Jerusalem, and I was left to book a room at a hotel. After settling in, from outside came a loud sound of gunfire. Thus, I have arrived, not at a popular holiday resort but at a warzone, thus exacerbating my sense of travel adventure. Especially when finding out that the very hotel I spent the night at was also used by the Israel Government to hold a conference there, 18 years later in 1994, to decide if East Jerusalem should be handed to Palestinian control under the gesture of Israel's worst enemy, then PLO leader Yasser Arafat.

It was no surprise that the Jews were furious, and they held a massive demonstration at Ben Yehuda Street fronting the hotel. With TV cameras placed here and there, along with the setting fire to Palestinian flags and Arafat banners, the size of the crowd made me feel somewhat claustrophobic, and I had to carefully wend my way through the mass of mostly male crowd until, at Jaffa Gate onwards, I was able to amble through the dark medieval street of the Old City back to the Arab-owned backpacker's hostel and the safety of my bed.

All that, along with watching a sheep skinned alive at a family wedding reception, learning how to say No to pushy Arabs offering "tours" for a fee and risking making enemies in a land I knew little of, yet such experiences had opened my eyes on life in the Middle East and its strong religious affiliation. Also to add that in 1976, I went down with a fever for three days, and how I was nursed back to health by an Arab family, whose house was built on Mount Moriah, the site of the City of David just south of Jerusalem. It's the sort of experience hardly known by those visiting with a Christian tour group, which seems to be the norm for westernised churchgoers.

Travelling on my own always carried an element of risk. At least that is what other people thought. Such as my work colleagues who were impressed with my trip to Israel in 1976, and I became the talk of the town. Or how I was called "brave" by two work colleagues who saw me stroll through the streets of New Orleans French Quarter in 1978, and again, 17 years later, by the air stewardess on the 1995 United Airlines flight from London to New York. Or the time I found myself walking alone between Sea World and Downtown San Diego late in the evening, after dark, again in 1995. This was due to missing the last bus back to the city where my hostel bed was. Fortunately, I stopped a passing cyclist and asked for directions. Just as well, as I was heading the wrong way, to begin with.

Or the walk from Downtown Los Angeles to the Greyhound Bus Terminal east of the city to prepare for the journey to San Francisco. I passed some iffy characters lounging around as I walked along East 7th Street, but nothing of significance happened. But it was still risky, yet the memory of this I treasure for life.

The taking of risks for a rich reward. And there is one chap at our church whose trip to the States included a hike with his two daughters up Angel Landing, a mountain at Zion National Park in Utah. The hike is described as dangerous, as it involves holding on to a safety chain while navigating a trail on a narrow precipice over a sheer drop into the valley below. As I studied the stock photo, I gasped and asked myself if I would be willing to navigate such a daring stretch of the trail. With ideal weather, my answer to that is a yes, as long as my camera is fully functional and ready. The reward for such a hike is an album of spectacular photos, especially of the valley below with mountains on the other side, thus forming a canyon in between.

I checked its accessibility on the internet. Little wonder that during my visits to that part of the world, I knew nothing about Zion National Park, although I might have been aware of its existence. Apparently, there is no public transport to it, unlike that of the Grand Canyon NP where transport is arranged at Flagstaff Bus Station.

Angel Landing Trail, Zion NP. Stock photo.

Sometimes I wonder what is riskier, using public transport or driving your own car? Especially in the States. No doubt, with a car, the whole of the USA is accessible. Not only the Grand Canyon but Zion NP, Canyonlands in Utah, Yellowstone Park, Yosemite in California, and others. These are places not reached by the Greyhound Bus, according to my experience. But at least bus travel is more comfortable and risk-free. But with hiring a car, on top of the rental fee, the hirer has to pay Collision-Waver Insurance, fuel and oil, and perhaps a fee to keep the tyres inflated. And with the risk of collisions and possible hospitalisation, nevertheless, the rewards for self-drive must be far richer when considering visiting these parks armed with a camera.

1995 is typical. From New York, my journey on the Greyhound Bus was "fast" - that is, I didn't alight except at service stops until I crossed the Mississippi River to alight at St Louis, Missouri, the home of the 630-foot high Gateway Arch. All the other cities - Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Colombus, and Cincinnati as examples, looked very much the same, a smaller version of Manhattan with its rows of cuboid tower blocks rising from the otherwise flat countryside. After a journey which was about the same distance covered as that of London to Rome, St Louise was worth spending a few days for its history. However, far more interesting for me is the mountainous country west of the Mississippi.

Finally, how far would I push my luck on a dangerous hike? Well, definitely not on the Mt Huashan Trail in China! That's the pic under the opening paragraph of this blog. It looks very rickety, doesn't it? Yet its purpose is not originally for leisure hiking but to provide access to a monastery. But at present, daring leisure hikers now use it! No, no matter how far I might push myself into the realm of high risk, this one is a definite no-no!