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.