10 rules for proper expedition behavior
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My young friend Teagan Mullen shared this with me. She's an up-and-coming climber having some great adventures, give her an Instagram follow, @teagshmeag
This is an excerpt from the book “The Cool of the Wild: An Extremist Guide to Adventure Sports” by Howard Tomb, 1994.
You might find this passage somewhat cheesy . . . or like me, make you spit out your coffee laughing. I thought some of these were pretty damn funny. Hope you do too.
(I think Rule #10 is the best!)
From the book . . .
“A good expedition team is like a powerful, well-oiled, finely-tuned marriage. Members cook meals together, face challenges together, and finally go to bed together. A bad expedition, on the other hand, is an awkward ugly, embarrassing thing characterized by bickering, filth, frustration, and crispy macaroni.
Nearly all bad expeditions have one thing in common: poor Expedition Behavior (EB).
This is true even if team members follow the stated rules, such as Don’t Step on the Rope, Separate Kerosene and Food, No Soap in the River, No Raccoons in the Tent, Keep your Ice Axe Out of My Eye, etc.
Unfortunately, too many rules of expedition behavior remain unspoken. Some leaders seem to assume that their team members already have strong and generous characters like their own. But judging from a few of the climbers we’ve encountered, more rules ought to be spelled out.
Here are ten of them.”
Rule #1: Get the hell out of bed.
Your tentmates get up early to fetch water and fire up the stove while you lie comatose in your sleeping bag. As they run an extensive equipment check, coil ropes and fix your breakfast, they hear you start to snore. Last night you were their buddy; now they’re drawing up lists of things about you that make them want to spit. You earned that. The team concept is now defunct.
Rule #2: Do not be cheerful before breakfast.
Some people wake up perky and happy as fluffy bunny rabbits. They put stress on those who wake up mean as rabid wolverines. Exhortations such as “Rise and shine, sugar!” and “Greet the dawn, pumpkin!” have been known to provoke pungent expletives from wolverine types. These curses, in turn, may offend fluffy bunny types. Indeed, they are issued with the sincere intent to offend. Thus, the day begins with flying fur and hurt feelings. The best early-morning EB is simple: Be quiet.
Rule #3: Do not complain. About anything. Ever.
It’s ten below zero, visibility is four inches and wind driven hailstones are embedding themselves in your face like shotgun pellets. Must you mention it? Do you think your friends haven’t noticed the weather? Make a suggestion. Tell a joke. Lead a prayer. Do not lodge a complaint. Your pack weighs 87 pounds and your cheap backpack straps are actually cutting into your flesh. Were you promised a personal Sherpa? Did somebody cheat you out of a mule team? If you can’t carry your weight, get a motor home.
Rule #4: Learn to cook at least one thing right.
One expedition trick is so old that it is no longer amusing: on the first cooking assignment, the clever cook prepares a dish that resembles, say, Burnt Sock In Toxic Waste Sauce. The cook hopes to be relieved permanently from cooking duties. This is the childish approach to a problem that’s been with us since people first started throwing lizards on the fire. Tricks are not a part of a team spirit. If you don’t like to cook, say so. Offer to wash dishes and to prepare the one thing you do know how to cook. Even if it’s only tea. Remember that talented camp cooks sometimes get invited to join major expeditions in Nepal, all expenses paid.
Rule #5: Either A) Shampoo, or B) Do not remove your hat for any reason.
After a week or so on the trail, without shampooing, hair forms angry little clumps and wads. These leave the person beneath looking like an escapee from a mental ward. Such an appearance could shake a team’s confidence in your judgment. If you can’t shampoo, pull a wool hat down over your ears and leave it there, night and day, for the entire expedition.
Rule #6: Do not ask if anybody’s seen your stuff.
Experienced adventures have systems for organizing their gear. They very rarely leave it strewn around camp or lying back on the trail. One of the most damning things you can do is ask your teammate if they’ve seen the tent poles you thought you packed 20 miles ago. Even in the unlikely event you get home alive, you will not be invited on the next trip. Should you ever leave the tent poles 20 miles away, do not ask if anybody’s seen them, and that you are sorry. It’s unprofessional to lose your spoon or your toothbrush. If something like that happens, don’t mention it to anyone.
Rule #7: Never ask where you are.
If you want to know where you are look at the map. Try to figure it out yourself. If you’re still confused, feel free to discuss the identity of landmarks around you and how they correspond to the cartography. If you A) suspect that a mistake has been made; and B) have experience in interpreting topographical maps, and C) are certain that your group leader is a novice or on drugs, speak up. Otherwise, follow the group like sheep.
What's a good rule about loading your pack?
How about some important personal hygiene?
And #10, the most important rule of all?
