Who's paying for all this? Why aren't mountain climbers required to carry emergency locator devices? And what were these men doing on Mount Hood in December?

In the wake of the Oregon case, in which one climber was found dead and the other two are missing and presumed dead, the case for regulations that could avert another tragedy might seem obvious.

But as it turns out, a lot of the ideas offered have been around for a while - and some are vigorously opposed by those who perform the rescue missions.

Take the idea of deterring risky behavior by making those who get lost pay for their rescue or, perhaps, making their families pay for recovery of their bodies. At least five states, including Oregon and California, have ''charge-for-rescue'' laws on the books. But the Mountain Rescue Association, which represents about 100 volunteer groups in the U.S., Canada and Britain, strongly objects to the concept.

''If people believe they are going to be charged, especially a big charge, they're going to be afraid to summon help,'' said Glenn Henderson, the association's California regional chairman and a rescue volunteer in Riverside. ''They're going to try and get themselves out of a jam. They will delay - and that delay can make the difference between life and death.

Henderson added: “We would always rather be called back on a mission than get there and find that we're too late.”

One common-sense solution to the risks of mountain treks would seem to be a device that allows climbers and hikers to summon help. Cell phones, satellite phones and emergency locator beacons can undoubtedly save lives. But rescue officials worry that these solutions carry their own danger.

“The problem is, they can really give you a false sense of security,” said Charley Shimanski, a former executive director of the American Alpine Club who is a volunteer with Colorado's Alpine Rescue Team.

Some rescue officials refer to this more bluntly as the “Triple-A card problem” - meaning that having a call-for-help plan in one's pocket may make one more likely to take risks.

Cell phones, of course, often don't work in remote areas, and the batteries can be vulnerable to extreme temperatures.

Personal locator devices - which are activated by the user in an emergency, sending a distress call that can be tracked by satellite - may emerge as standard gear for climbers. Current models are about the size of a deck of cards, and can be bought for a few hundred dollars or rented for a few dollars a day.

But even if the technology works perfectly, the reality is that in mountain disasters, it is sometimes impossible to deliver help even if rescuers know exactly where the problem is.

When 48-year-old Kelly James of Dallas placed a cell phone call to his family on Dec. 10 from a snow cave just below the 11,240-foot summit on Mount Hood, he already may have been beyond saving.

On that day and for the next four, severe winds and the risk of an avalanche kept rescue teams and helicopter crews at least 2,500 feet below the summit. An autopsy concluded James died of hypothermia shortly after placing the call.

It is not yet clear what happened to his fellow climbers, Brian Hall, 37, of Dallas, and Jerry “Nikko” Cooke, 36, of Brooklyn.

But based on scattered climbing equipment found near the summit and photographs retrieved from James' camera, authorities believe there is virtually no chance the two are alive. Hood River County Sheriff Joe Wampler said they may have slipped or been swept off the mountain or buried in an avalanche.

The incident raises the question of whether the men should have been on the mountain at all. And whether their plan for a one-day “rapid ascent,” a strategy that places a premium on carrying a minimal amount of gear and food, cut the margin for error too close.

They were climbing in conditions that amounted to a blizzard. They set out in relatively clear conditions, but forecasts indicated that a storm was on the way. Still, if snow and ice are to be a bar to climbing, then Mount Hood - as well as Washington's Mount Rainier and other peaks in the Cascade Mountains - might never be open for climbing.

While December seems like a treacherous time to climb, the biggest climbing disasters on these mountains have occurred in late spring or summer.

In May 1986, on Mount Hood, seven students and two teachers from Oregon Episcopal School were killed when a fast-moving blizzard struck their climbing party.

On Mount Rainier, 11 people died in June 1981 when their climbing party was buried under an avalanche.

Disaster can strike even when there are no big storms. Many climbers over the years have plunged to their deaths in glacial crevasses on blue-sky days.

In the span of two days in late May 2002, accidents killed three climbers on Mount Rainier and three on Mount Hood. Six other climbers on Mount Hood were trapped in a crevasse. Conditions were clear enough for a dramatic rescue - but one of the helicopters slammed into the mountain, a scene captured on live television and broadcast around the world. All six crew members survived, and the six climbers were saved by other rescuers.

Despite the accidents, mountaineering groups say that climbing has actually gotten safer.

The American Alpine Club, a national organization for mountaineers and rock climbers, said in a 2005 report that the average annual number of reported climbing accidents declined from a peak of 168 in the 1980s to 159 in the 1990s and 139 so far this decade.

Injuries fell from 146 to 128 to 117 in those decades. Average annual deaths peaked at 34 in the 1970s, then dropped to 29 in the '80's, 27 in the '90s, and 23 so far this decade.

The report also disputed the notion that the cost of rescue operations was exorbitant.

“Most climbing rescues are performed by highly skilled volunteer rescue units who do not charge, or by specialized park rangers whose costs are often subsidized by climbing use fees,” the report said, ''making climbing rescues less of a drain on taxpayers than other recreational participants'' including boaters and hunters.