Something to be said for dying doing that you love

Well, there I was, just the other day, excoriating the parents who took their eye off their toddler while they were volcano-touristing at Kilauea and last-minute managed to save their kiddo when he was one foot away from plummeting into the four-hundred foot deep lava-bubbling calderon. 

So why am I not excoriating the two guys who died in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest in the great state o' Washington? Especially when their disappearance resulted in a three-day search that started on Christmas Day and involved drones, Coast Guard helicopters, and on-the-ground human and canine searchers, through treacherous terrain, snowy-rainy weather, raging rivers, downed trees, and bitter cold conditions (which may not have bothered the drones, but likely bothered the humans and the doggos)? And especially since their deaths were the result of a combo of their very own credulity, stupidity, and lack of preparedness?

I guess because, when I thought about it, I suspect that these grown men - aged 59 and 37, so maybe even a father-son duo - were doing something that may seem dumb-arsed and silly to most of us, but may well have been something they loved. Like looking for Sasquatch.

Hey, I'd like to believe as much as the next guy does in the existence of Loch Ness Monster (rather than the more likely explanation that it's just a large fish or a floating log).  That DB Cooper is an old coot alive and living off the land in the forests of Washington (rather than the more likely scenario that he's part of the humus). That Sasquatch, a.k.a. Bigfoot, exists - maybe even that he/she/it is a hirsute D.B. Cooper (rather than the more likely situation that he/she/it is a figment of a lot of credulous, overactive imaginations. Or maybe even a big-footed guy in a gorilla costume.

Anyway, the two fellows who were out hunting Sasquatch, only to die of exposure, were probably out for a purposeful adventure or a lark (perhaps an alcohol or drug-fueld lark). I hope they had a fun time on their drive from their home in Portland, Oregan, to the Gifford Pinchot National Park. I hope they got out of their car and tackled their search in hopes of finding the mythic creature. I hope that, as the trekked along, they kept asking each other "wouldn't it be something if..." I hope they just kind of drifted off in hypothermia-induced bliss, with or without having experienced a brief "holy shit, we really f'd up" moment.

Anyway, I'm guessing/hoping that these fellows, maroons though they may be, were out having fun, doing something dopey, but something they loved. Or at least liked.

Me? While I'd be fine if Sasquatch turned out to be for real, there's no evidence - despite all the supposed sightings - that there is such a creature. The rational belief is that it's a bear walking upright (although that picture looks more like a human in a gorilla costume).

Although there's likely no such thing as Sasquatch, some communities have taken steps to kinda-sorta protect he/she/it:

In Skamania County, harming a Sasquatch carries of fine of $1,000 (£797) and one year in prison. The law, initially passed in 1969, was intended to protect both Sasquatch and elk hunters with particularly large beards, according to the Skamania Chamber of Commerce. (Source: BBC)

No protection possible for doofuses that are just doing something dumb. But there is something to be said for dying while doing something you love.

Which leaves me hoping that I die while reading, watching baseball, or just hanging out with fam and friends (although that might not be so much fun for fam and friends).