The right to endanger ourselves in the name of fun and adventure is one of our most precious freedoms in Alberta.
Sadly, it’s a freedom that is constantly under attack by those who would see lawmakers start legislating against all kinds of potentially dangerous activity.
As kids, we grew up behind the handlebars of snowmobiles and ATVs, which are often at the centre of debates about safety and legality.
When I was six years old, Dad would start the old Ski-Doo TNT 340 for my little brother and I, and watch from the kitchen window as we took turns driving slow laps around the garden.
When we got older, Dad bought a pair of well-used Arctic Cat snowmobiles and our riding territory was expanded to the three quarter sections adjacent to our farm. If we dared break Dad’s firm rules about reckless driving or going outside the designated boundary, we lost our snowmobile privileges for a week or two — which was devastating.
In the summer, we rode ATVs and motorcycles, exploring the vast and rugged eastern Alberta countryside with our buddies.
As teenagers, snowmobile and ATV treks became a weekly occurrence. Just about every Saturday we’d suit up, fuel up and go riding for the day — often not returning home until sundown. On our frequent excursions, we developed an intimate knowledge of the local landscape and learned a thing or two about tinkering with temperamental two-stroke engines.
Did we get into trouble sometimes? Absolutely.
I recall one day in particular, while riding my little Suzuki quad down the gravel road toward our grandparent’s place, I caught a wheel on a grader ridge and launched into the ditch. My machine got hung up in a barbed-wire fence and I was thrown clear into the field on the other side. Luckily, I wasn’t hurt, although the incident put a real scare into my parents and grandparents.
I was a little shaken up but not enough to stop me from going out again the next weekend — with repeated promises to drive more carefully in the future.
Some of the best memories I have were born on those days — getting stuck in the mud, breaking down and having to walk to the nearest house, having a spontaneous hot-dog roasts in the middle of nowhere.
As a working adult, my riding days are few and far between, but I do enjoy the occasional opportunity to spend a day motorbiking or snowmobiling with my friends back home.
My younger brother Aric is still an avid snowmobiler who makes several trips into the Rockies each winter. It’s a dangerous pastime, but one that boasts an unbeatable sense of exhilaration.
Aric and his riding mates certainly understand the risks associated with sledding in the mountains. They take all the appropriate precautions, but there are never any guarantees. For my brother and his ‘sledneck’ pals, the rush is totally worth the risk.
People are into all kinds of hazardous recreational activities beyond snowmobiling and ATVing. Many Central Albertans enjoy activities like rock climbing, skydiving and backcountry skiing. Imagine the outcry if the government brought down a bunch of rules and restrictions on horseback riding?
These dangerous sports and activities are bound to have a few casualties, and every year we hear of sledders and skiers being killed in avalanches or stranded in the backcountry. When those kinds of tragedies strike, there are always cries for tighter legislation with the goal of increasing safety and saving lives.
These safety advocates — although well-intentioned — are sadly misguided.
The desire to seek out a little personal peril every now and then is a strange, illogical human characteristic.
But it’s one we should always be entitled to.
