Mothers can love danger too

Should climber Alison Hargreaves have given up her sport for the sake of her children? Liz Hunt talks to women who take risks

"IF SHE'D been a man - and a father of young children - nobody would be asking these questions, would they?" Francesca Shashkova, Britain's top woman sports parachutist, shoots straight from the hip.

And she is right. Had Alison Hargreaves, the mountaineer feared to have lost her life on K2 a week ago today, not been the mother of two young children, then questions about her right to pursue such a dangerous career would not be an issue.

But she was; and it is. Headlines which trumpeted the death of "Mother Courage" or debated her bravery or foolishness promptly followed those proclaiming the tragedy. They were magnified by reports that Ms Hargreaves, 33, was the driving force in the decision by the party of six, now believed dead, to push on to the summit of the mountain despite worsening weather.

Had her desire for the personal triumph and professional acclaim of conquering K2, the world's second highest peak, just months after becoming the first woman to reach the top of Everest without oxygen, overridden her judgement? Do women, once they have children, forfeit the right knowingly to put their lives in danger in this way? Are they self-indulgent and irresponsible if they do so?

By no means, says Mrs Shashkova, 32. Her one-year-old daughter, Anastasia, is the most important thing in her life, she says, but she has never considered giving up parachuting, or relinquishing her place in the Guinness Book of Records as the Women's High Altitude Freefall record holder.

Three months ago she resumed training in preparation for the National Championships in 1996, and will complete 300 to 400 jumps in the next year. Anastasia will join the "drop zone kids" at the London Parachute School in Lewknor, Oxfordshire - the children whose parents regularly jump out of aeroplanes while they play thousands of feet below.

"I don't think that being a mother means everything stops and that you should stay at home. You can find danger around every corner. My daughter means absolutely everything to me. If I thought it was dangerous I would not do it. It looks highly dangerous to those who don't do it - we are plummeting out of the sky - but it is a highly disciplined sport, governed by rigorous, stringent checks. I am not a daredevil parachutist. I am a sportswoman and I don't see any reason not to continue with it."

Mrs Shashkova is not untouched by the death of Alison Hargreaves. It will, she says, force every woman - not only those who regularly risk their lives - to think about the choices they make in the career versus family dilemma.

Helen Bashford, 37, Britain's fastest woman racing driver, and mother of 10-year-old James and six-year-old Fey, agrees. "What happened to Alison, it does make you think about death and what you do. My mother will probably be saying to me this week 'do you think you should carry on?' "

But for Helen Bashford, giving up racing is not an option. She has been involved with Le Mans-type sports cars for 18 years, averaging seven or eight races a year on circuits here and throughout Europe. She regularly achieves speeds of 150mph-plus and has held the award for Britain's fastest Women's Racing Driver five times.

"It is a dangerous sport but the need to do it is something you can't control. Each year you say you are going to give it up, but you can't. I don't rationalise it. I suppose it would be unfair to the children if I got myself killed but I don't think I am going to get killed. You just don't think about it. Perhaps I should."

She adds: "What Alison Hargreaves did was, in my terms, the equivalent of Grand Prix racing. And if I were offered a Grand Prix drive, I wouldn't think twice about it."

Jilly Curry, 33, who lives in Winchester, Hampshire, did think about it. Following the birth of her son, Lloyd, six months ago, she decided to quit ski acrobatics, the sport which had earned her 30 World Cup medals as a member of the British Freestyle Ski Team between 1984 and 1994, and a fourth place in the 1992 Winter Olympics in Albertville, France.

"Launching yourself 40 feet in the air, doing manoeuvres and landing on a slope can be dangerous," Ms Curry says. "At a world competition level it is probably unfair to your child because you are always pushing yourself to do a new jump, always at your limit. You might be fine, but on the other hand something could go wrong, and you do suddenly have this added responsibility to someone else."

But there is a price to pay for quitting, she says. She misses the "buzz, the adrenalin surge" passionately and talks about her need to find a substitute for the satisfaction of training and the thrill of competing. "It was my life for such a long time and suddenly there is this enormous change in lifestyle."

Despite her own decision to quit, she respects Alison Hargreaves's right to try to combine ascending the world's highest peaks with raising her children, Tom, six, and Kate, four. "She knew as much as anyone of the risk involved. If she chose to carry on that is her prerogative, isn't it? But it can't have been easy. It is a really difficult decision for any woman."

The decision by women such as Francesca Shashkova and Helen Bashford to take risks is based on a confidence in, and reliance on, their own ability and experience, honed over many years. They are supremely confident.

"It isn't over-confidence. We never forget we are human, that we are fallible. There is always the chance of equipment failure, and the freak accident," says Mrs Shashkova who began parachuting at 18. She has friends who have died or have been seriously injured, but says the harsh reality is that it is often people who have forgotten to make some major check before they jump who experience disaster. "I don't even pack my own parachute. I could if I wanted, but I prefer to leave it to someone more experienced than me. You protect yourself as best you can."

From what is known of Alison Hargreaves, she too protected herself as best she could, and the risks she took were carefully calculated ones. During her first attempt on Everest she halted only 1,400ft from the top and returned to camp. She said she did it "... because I remembered a friend telling me to be careful before I left and asking how I would feel picking up the children without fingers [from frostbite] ..." It is unlikely that Tom and Kate, or her responsibility to them, were ever far from her mind when an avalanche, the sort of freak accident feared by all high- risk takers, last week swept her to her death.

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