Cathy Sutton has been angry all week. And sad. But mostly angry, because she's yet again forced to relive her daughter's "completely inexcusable" death in the wake of a 14-year-old boy dying last Saturday in the mountains near Delta.
"Every time something like this happens, I go through the death of my daughter again," said Sutton, who has turned the anguish of her loss into a voice against wilderness youth programs. "And I want to use it to warn parents to just wait a minute. You're weak and desperate, and that's what this industry preys upon."
The industry Sutton blames for the death of her daughter Michelle in 1990 in St. George are the 116 troubled teen wilderness programs nationwide that use both the beauty and the strict, unforgiving elements of nature to proctor kids back into good behavior.
Ian August collapsed and died on a hike chaperoned by Skyline Journey, one of nine state-licensed programs operating in Utah. The actual cause of his death has not been determined, but state licensing administrators say Skyline Journey is properly licensed. The program's operators say its treks are modeled on abundance of food, water and hiking gear, not on the boot-camp-type deprivation some use to motivate participants.
Sutton and other parents say no matter the design, the programs are flawed and should be banned.
Others credit them with ushering their children into new and better behaviors.
A Salt Lake parent who did not want to be identified said she thinks the programs aren't inherently risky, and she is sure that a 28-day stay in the desert near St. George eight years ago "gave my daughter confidence that she never had before and still has today."
But, she added, programs should carefully monitor the endurance capability of kids because they vary widely.
"It's one thing to require a certain level of fitness," she said. "But passing a physical in a doctor's office does not equate to being able to take a lot of physical activity in the wild."
Sutton, however, is highly critical. "The concept that was sold to me was not what my daughter received," Sutton said, noting that what was touted as a hands-on extended experience with Mother Nature to help get her child get away from, and solve, her problems became an exercise in deprivation.
"It was not billed as a deprivation program. Why would I have fallen for such a thing? This latest death is just history repeating itself," she said, adding that she expects more futile efforts to really do something about the programs, which in her mind operate like cults.
"There is always excuse-making. They will say it is just a freak accident. Perhaps worst of all, they say we have lost one, but we have saved many," said Sutton, founder of the Michelle Sutton Memorial Fund Inc., based in Ripon, Calif.
'Last resort'
Wilderness programs are often seen as therapy of last resort for many parents, said Andy Anderson, executive director of the National Association of Therapeutic Schools and Programs, based in Clearwater, Fla. The 3-year-old association has just adopted ethical guidelines and good-practice principles for its members. Skyline Journey is not a member, although Anderson said operators have applied for membership.
"The loss of any kid is a tragedy," Anderson said. "Parents are upset. I'm upset, and I'm sure Skyline Journey is upset. They're in the business to help kids."
Such programs have been around since the early 1900s, when therapists began having success with patients who participated in so-called "tent therapy." The basic theory remains the same: Participants are forced to deal with the natural consequences of their actions. If it rains and your tent's not set up, you get wet; if you're not prepared, you pay, not because your parents will get angry, but because indifferent nature imposes it.
Anderson said as tragic as the death is, "and I don't mitigate it at all, it's important for people to remember that life is a risk. Just in daily life, kids this age are two to three times as likely to get hurt in a car." Adolescents are also a lot more at risk for workplace accidents or skiing or playing sports."
Beside being teenagers, most of the kids in the programs are at extra risk because they're often abusing drugs or running around with the wrong crowd, "behavior that parents think is very threatening," he said.
Research needed
Whether there is long-term benefit in attending a wilderness program isn't known.
Keith Russell, a researcher at the University of Idaho Wilderness Research Center, is trying to fill that gap. He is following 858 adolescents in outdoor behavior health programs around the country. He has found that after a year, 83 percent of them and their parents thought their children were better after the treatment.
He also reports that the 116 programs around the country, which include military-style boot camp programs for kids who are found guilty of crimes in juvenile court, generate about $200 million annually.
Craig Barlow, Utah assistant attorney general and chief of the children's justice division, said more research data than that is needed to determine if the programs actually change behavior and are effective long term.
"If they don't have an effect on kids, we should not give them licenses to operate in the first place," Barlow said. Not only should specific maximum temperature rules also be re-evaluated, steps must be taken by parents or trade associations to ensure that kids are matched exactly to the program they want.
Anderson said that's one of the key services of the association. A 13-year-old girl who chooses a trek to get next to nature is going to expect something a lot different than a 17-year-old forced into one.
Sutton believes that if the state doesn't do unannounced monthly checks on the programs to determine whether they are keeping the guidelines, "the state is in fact giving the programs license to kill."
Barlow said the Legislature would ultimately have to decide to increase the number of inspectors for the programs and at the same time increase funding for them.
State oversight
In Utah, state regulations were prompted by several problems more than a decade ago, said Ken Stettler, director of the Utah Office of Licensing for the Department of Human Services.
Two girls died in Utah wilderness programs in 1990, just before the state's new rules took effect.
When enforcement of the licensing regulations began later that year, there were 13 programs in the state; by the end of 1990, there were seven.
"That kind of gives you an idea of what the first year of regulation did. They weren't able to meet the criteria," Stettler said.
The most important thing for state officials to monitor is staff members' training and qualifications, Stettler said. Programs also must be equipped with adequate basics — food, clothing and shelter.
And the programs need to have solid emergency plans, he said, for accident and sudden illness can claim lives.
In 1990, one month after Michelle Sutton's death, a 16-year-old Florida girl died from heat exhaustion in Utah during a day hike with the Challenger Foundation.
A 16-year-old Phoenix boy died from peritonitis while participating in the North Star program in Garfield County in 1994.
Last Christmas, a 16-year-old fell near Gunlock Reservoir while hiking with the Red Rock Ranch program. She died two weeks later in a Las Vegas hospital.