500 feet and a half mile

Mt St Helens 5/12/07 11 miles

There we were at the crest of the last big climb up Mt St Helens, Michael’s leg had just given out on him as well as his will to continue. It had been pure will on his part to get him up the last 1500 vertical feet: 20 steps and stop, 20 steps and stop. We had left our packs down around 6000 feet about 2000 feet from the top of the 8300 foot volcano. But that didn’t seem to help Michael’s pace. I knew there was something wrong, but he wasn’t letting on and he had a plan on how to make it to the top – leave our packs and continue on. Once we had crested the hill however, Michael stopped and couldn’t move on.

He finally told me what had been bothering him for the last 2000 feet or so – he had pulled a muscle behind his knee and every step was misery for him. No wonder he could only go a few steps before stopping. I stood at the crest of this last very steep slope listening to Michael as he outlined our options, not really paying too much attention. I already knew what we would have to do. We would need to turn back. I couldn’t ask him to go on and I wasn’t about to finish without him although the crater rim was just up there. I knew I could make it, but why go on without the person who had gotten me this far?

Turning back, however was fear inducing for me. I had hoped for a “practice” glissade before attempting to slide down this oh so steep hill. We started to sidestep down the hill but every muscle in my body tensed up with fear. If I did fall, I would be in a world of hurt and that is what I was most fearful of, falling. I had never trusted the snow – it is a devious substance hiding dangers underneath its apparent solid surface. To this day, I don’t understand how people can be so cavalier on the snow, traipsing along without a seeming care in the world. Me? No, I have to wonder if my next step is a step to disaster. Which is part of the reason I wanted to go on this adventure, to work on my self-confidence in the snow. I love to snowshoe. Skiing still needs work. But to walk in the snow, I would need some practice.

We finally sat down to take off our crampons (one of the best investments we’ve made – my new snow security blankets) and scuttled over to the glissade track. If you’ve never glissaded before, let me tell you. Sliding down a snowy mountain on your butt is probably the second best thing to mountain climbing after the wonderfully unobstructed views. OK, then there’s the absolute thrill that you just did something adventurous, something fun, something crazy.

"Dry" Run

Mt St Helens 4/28/07 5 miles

In preparation for our climb in May, Michael and I decided to hike as far as we were allowed on Mt St Helens to get a feel of where we'd be heading in a few weeks - it would be our "dry" run. I emphasize dry because within a few yards of the trail head for the winter climbing route we ran into snow. Well, duh, this is the winter climbing route. Normally, people who want to climb to the crater of Mt St Helens head to the climber's bivouac and then the Monitor Ridge route. In the winter, climbers start at the Marble Mountain sno-park trail head and add another mile to their climb each way.

We were a bit apprehensive before climbing out of our car and heading up the trail after the climbers heading to the top. We appraised the climbers' gear - everything from daypacks to skis - and their fitness level - everything from Joe Average to Adonis. OK, we thought, this gives us no idea how other people are preparing for the climb. Sure we had the list from the Forest Service web-site but we wanted to see what people actually brought along with us. As a fall-back we decided to follow the recommended list from the Forest Service for our climb in two weeks. Better to be over-prepared than under, I always say.

We climbed to treeline about 2 1/2 miles in and found a nice perch to sit and have lunch as we watched the climbers make their way up the mountain. The climbing ranger had mentioned it before she skied off down the hill. I thought, skis would be nice to have - too bad I'm such a klutz on them as I watched her gently glide away.

We watched for some time, as the line of ant-like climbers made their way up the snow, the clouds drifting apart every now and then to expose the crater rim. Must have been a beautiful sight from the rim - I could imagine the crater below and stretching off north, the Cascades and Puget Sound and at the center of the scene rose Mt Rainier. I was still somewhat apprehensive, remembering my failed attempt several years ago. But the thought of seeing for myself that fabulous view made me want to try all the more.

Micheal was there to evaluate the trail and happily he came back with a healthy prognosis - we could do this. All we need to do is take our time, play it safe and we'd have one more accomplishment under our belts. Come back in a few weeks to find out how we did.