James Mason is a retired EMT, climber and skier. He lives in Lyme.

My fingers were cold, lacking dexterity, and I was sweat-chilled to the core having stopped multiple times in the deep drifting powder to deal with a troublesome snowshoe binding.

It was 10º F, much colder than forecast, and now, at tree line, the wind gusts were 40 mph. Facing the frigid wind chill, I struggled to add layers, a face mask and goggles. With only two hours of daylight left, I knew I should stop and head back down, but I could see the wind-swept summit less than half a mile away.

Every seasoned winter hiker and climber knows the story. We’ve all been there: late start, slow going, bad weather, equipment trouble, things going awry. But winter’s ravaging nature is unforgiving, especially in an exposed alpine zone. You’ve got to be on your game — even small errors tend to accumulate. Any slip, fall or injury limiting mobility becomes life-threatening. As these wilderness scenarios unfold, serious risk factors can pile up quickly and spiral beyond control if not recognized and corrected.

Some find extreme solo challenges the ultimate test of skill and endurance. Others consider the gamble overly bold. Many a winter mountaineer has played this numbers game, where mistakes along the way suddenly result in a serious close call, injury, or worse. Did they pause to ask: If I sprained my ankle, do I have the gear, skill and fortitude to survive a freezing night alone on the mountain?

Early mountaineering pioneer and legend Paul Petzold foretold it: “There are old climbers and there are bold climbers, but there are no old, bold climbers.”

As technology and equipment continue to improve, we are emboldened to pursue more difficult challenges. Lighter and faster, solo we go. That personal drive to excel is further encouraged by GoPro cameras and social media challenges, by Strava, Garmin and online blogs, all of them urging us to show off our latest extreme accomplishment. Perhaps this is a healthy challenge to raise the bar — “I’m pretty sure I can beat that performance,” we tell ourselves — but maybe not.

Cell phones and personal emergency locator devices also add a, albeit sometimes false, sense of security. If we need help, we’ll just call and someone will come. Well, not always. On a mountain, it could be a few hours or even a day, assuming resources are available and conditions are acceptable to even launch a rescue.

Activating a team of a dozen rescuers also puts others at risk. Solo hikers can’t leverage the safety that exists in numbers, whereas bringing a buddy or two along for the hike makes self-rescue possible.

A hiker may be young, capable and well-prepared but lack the critical wisdom and practical insight earned only by years of developing backcountry skills. Reading weather, maps and compasses, evaluating hazardous conditions and honing first-aid/survival skills are all essential for personal responsibility. Nearly all winter-related injuries, fatalities or close-calls in the White Mountains of New Hampshire have involved hikers who were separated from their comrades or who purposefully confronted extreme conditions alone.

I can appreciate the “solo” appeal, but two heads are better than one when it comes to making the tough decision to go on or to call it a day. Beware though: Every group dynamic requires clear open dialog, asserting concerns and pushing aside any perceived pressure to achieve the initial goal.

The fact is that, every day, we face many decisions about how we will handle a given situation. Each time, these judgment calls, small and large, have the potential to result in serious consequences. We usually know when we are teetering on one of these fateful decisions, choosing a safe or a less-than-safe action that could result in an accident. Texting or tailgating are obvious risks some take while driving, for example.

Often, we take the chance anyway, and we usually get away without incident. We become complacent. In winter’s high peaks, there is little room for error. This is certainly true as many solo climbers test their abilities and push their limits, risking frostbite, hypothermia and even death in the White Mountains.

Experience truly is the best teacher. As safety officer for the Upper Valley Wilderness Response Team, I challenge members to safely hone their critical outdoor survival skills close to home well before they are needed at 1 a.m. on a snowy remote mountainside. As search and rescue technicians, we train using scenarios and pre-plans to help hikers and climbers gain confidence and be prepared for most situations.

When you’re ready to venture out, start with small goals and exercise responsible judgment in all that you do. Be properly equipped to spend the night, and remember there is safety in numbers.

Know when to call it a day. Head back and make a plan for another time.