Dangerous Games: Ice Climbing, Storm Kayaking and Other Adventures from the Extreme Edge of Sports

by Andrew Todhunter

Book Overview

In October of 1982, a twenty-seven-year-old British alpinist named Alex MacIntyre was killed by rock fall during a descent of the south face of Annapurna." Thus begins this enthralling collection of... This description may be from another edition of this product.

• Format: Hardcover
• Language: English
• ISBN: 038548643X
• ISBN13: 9780385486439
• Release Date: September 2000
• Publisher: Doubleday Books
• Length: 178 Pages
• Weight: 0.70 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.7" x 5.8" x 8.5"

Customer Reviews

It doesn't get much better...

The cover is misleading. Many of the stories in the collection are not "Sport" at all. These are views into dangerous activities, which range from essays on rescue workers off the coast of Northern California to introspective musings on the chainsaw. Others are indeed sports, though not the type you view on ESPN; these are stories of individuals who have concocted their own unique flavor of excitement: from storm kayaking in the Pacific to leaping off high bridges. Todhunter is fascinated by risk and danger and the people who engage in these activities.Whether climbing vertical ice or diving beneath frozen lakes, Todhunter delivers crisp, clean, first-hand insight, with a full shot of adrenaline in the mix. An experienced diver and climber, Todhunter plays at times neophyte, apprentice, novice, and savvy traveler (in measure with his experience) all with equal grace. He shares his far-flung interests in high-adrenaline experiences with a literary style that inspires rapt, hypnotic, page-turning awe.

what it's like to be there

Whether or not you are an ice climber, a diver for wrecks, or someone who explores the depths of caves, all of which the writer is, Todhunter can make you feel you've been there,often with amazing descriptions, sometimes beautiful, sometimes chilling. Cases in point, a couple of brief samples from the chapter called "Beneath the ice." "Far above the triangle [cut through the ice of a Sierra lake]is aglow in the dimly translucent field of ice. Our lines stretch upward, vanishing. I give a firm tug: "Okay." A tug comes back fom my tender. "Acknowledged." The trail of air bubbles works its way to the surface, rumbling faintly. I take a deep breath and expel it with one quick contraction of the diaphragm. The body of air breaks into three spheres that flatten into mushrooms the diammeter of dinner plates, expanding as they climb. Surrounded by a host of smaller bubbles, 100 silver dollars, 1,000 dimes--twirling in their wake, the three upturned bowls of air catch the sun as they near the surface, gleam like mirrors, and disappear." And its ending [as they come up]:"On the other side of the ice, our tenders set off like sled dogs on the run. The lines go aut and we begin to move, gaining speed. Howling through our regulators, we ski upside down across the ice.The wedge of blue sky suddenly appears, hurtling toward us. As I dive headfirst through the triangle I'm blinded. I look straight down into the sun."