There is something indefinable in the human spirit that drives some among us to personal excesses that most others would never dream of committing to. I've read and continue to read, countless personal accounts of Himalayan expeditions, historical expeditions to the North and the South Poles, ascents of Denali and Everest at virtually opposite ends of the Earth, and the human drive to salve one's curiosity, to exploit personal physical and mental resources to the fullest, to challenge nature in her own domain; a seemingly endless human pursuit.

Currently I've taken up the account of a Canadian man then in his mid-50s, an avid kayaker who had previously paddled his way to the Amazon and cemented that reputation he garnered with a further exploit which he described in a personal narrative titled "Paddle to the Arctic". This is a man acutely aware of the dangers before him, and who quite frankly admits to his fears, yet sets out to accomplish a voyage no one else before him had ever undertaken, encountering on his way constant threats to his existence, escaping death countless times.

Despite inner inquietude, what drives these people?

I can remember often coming across signs warning climbers to beware of inclement weather, while climbing with our children years ago in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Signs that read: at the first sign of bad weather, you are advised to turn back. Those signs also listed the numbers of hikers who had met death doing just what we intended to do. I can also recall stormy weather suddenly interrupting climbs when we were halfway to our destination of a summit, when first rain fell, then sleet and as we progressed gaining height, snow. On one occasion we persisted and went on to mount the summit. On another, a fierce thunderstorm drove us from our intent when we were two-thirds of the way to a summit.

So, it is with a certain amount of personal experience that I view the news that five Korean nationals who were snowshoeing north of Vancouver, climbing on this past weekend to reach the summit of Mount Harvey, lost their lives. They had, unbeknownst to them, clustered on a cornice, a buildup of snow due to weather conditions that occurs on the edge of precipices, making it difficult for unaware, unseasoned climbers to distinguish the frailty of what they stand upon from a solid surface under the snow. Eager to view the scene far distant below, their combined weight obviously tested the cornice's ability to withstand their presence, and it broke off, sending the five to their deaths, far below.

A sixth member of their snowshoeing party hadn't been able to maintain the same pace as the main party, so he was spared the terrifying experience of tumbling through the frigid air, engulfed in falling snow, perhaps the last sight available to each, the spectacle of their snowshoe-clad neighbours helplessly tumbling alongside them.

Those with experience in the region, at the time of year, with knowledge of weather conditions and who scrutinize warning sites would have come across one that cautioned: "Be careful of the cornice along the top ridge to the summit. They will be breaking off soon", on livetrails.com.