I ran my Mom into the ground as I grew. I often heard her yell (and justifiably so) "get down from there; don't eat that; don't stick that knife near your eye, or your brother's; get away from the edge, you're going to die; down out of that tree, you'll fall; stop running." Well I have never understood her fears until yesterday.
Last month I made a Summer 2008 adventures list. It has things I want to do such as go to the Grand Canyon, make a video to upload on YouTube, and kiss someone on the top of Squaw Peak. Last year during a hike to the Y a man I met suggested another path which leads around the Y mountain. It is a mere 10 mile hike and is a circumference of the entire mountain, showcasing remote landscape, camping spots and even a drinkable fresh-water spring. This hike made the cut, so at twelve twenty nine in the afternoon I set up the trail to the Y in shorts with four Arby's sandwiches and two full bladders of H2O in my camelback.
I reached the top of the Y approximately twenty two minutes later. After a one minute recovery period I continued up the steep in pursuit of uncharted territory somewhere above and behind. Another thirty minutes passed and I reached the campsite beyond the mountain. My pace had not been blistering but I would say it was a respectible clip and I was proud of the progress I had made. Another five minutes and I was tredging through two feet of snow and several inches of mud.
The next hour consisted of losing the path, blazing a trail through bushes, snow and mud to higher ground. After two hours of demanding hiking I sat on a rocky precipice overlooking the Y (which looked very flat from my vantage point) and all the outlying communities eating several Arby's Melts. I was satisfied, and tired.
It had been a strenuous hike and my mind was already weighed with the voice of the Eagle Scout within saying hiking alone, off the path, in uncharted territory was a bad and dangerous idea. What if I slipped on a muddy snow covered patch and hit my head on one of the jagged rock patches. Before leaving my apartment I had told my roomate where I would be going and that he was the only one who would know, joking that if I never came back...he would know where to send the search team. I had to be extra careful for the risks I was taking.
One thing I was not willing to do was to go back the way I came, how boring, and defeating. As I looked down from my perch I considered finding a descent straight down, I could see my car. After thirty seconds of trying this method I discarded the idea. The hundred foot cliffs were not as forgiving as I thought they could be. The only logical (and masculine) conclusion was continue on the back side of the mountain and head for Rock Canyon, the canyon the path would have met with if I were still on it.
I trekked up and over the summit the mountain, back into the snow and across the side of the mountain. The mud and snow and bushes were annoying and presented with slippery footing most of the way. Once I reached a clearing I could see the drop-off towards Rock Canyon ahead. As I looked over the precipice I realized my situation.
I looked down at over 3500 feet descent largely covered in snow, the expanse winding down toward the base lost to sight by many obstacles, twists and turns. My heart beat faster. There was no way I was going back since I had hiked so far already. Going ahead looked like it could be suicidal and I knew once I started down there was absolutely no turning back. I started down.
Cliffs on either side I chose the most gradual entry point which required scaling a ten foot rock face, then another, then another. With ropes, a buddy, and dry ground it may have been a challenging, tricky, focused climb. Now, two feet of snow covered slippery crumbling rocks which broke through with almost every step since runoff had created hollow spaces. Soft snow was slippery and mud more. Realistically the average grade was probably about 35%; almost straight down. All this combined with being alone, I knew my Mom would kill me.
I took each obstacle slowly and methodically, knowing that the slightest slip could leave me with at the least broken bones and at the most, worse. Slipping many times I used tree branches, fingertips full of rock, and twigs to balance and control each step. Caution was my only thought.
Well that is not exactly true. For the last hour, since coming to the edge of the precipice, I had begun praying, and not always silently. I called on the Lord to protect me as I made each advance to the next rocky promontory and obstacle. I wish I could more accurately paint the picture of how much in need of help I was at each and every step of my journey down this ravine. My prayers often came in the form of hymns (the only reason it was good I was alone) which I could feel reached to heaven with each verse. They also came as verbal gasps as I strained to hold on and maintain a toehold. Thus was my situation.
After some time I came to what looked like a very wide (about 100 yard wide and 150 foot long) half pipe with snow covering the ground. After how hard I had been working I was ready for a break. I thought "If Bear can do it on Man vs Wild why the heck not" I sat down and began sliding down the mountain in my shorts, diggin in my heels to slow and using my frozen hands to guide. It was a moment of fun.
As I flew down this snow highway I saw it drop off ahead. I dug in to stop and delicately worked my way over to the side. Grasping the only tree I leaned over and saw that there was a twenty five foot drop down. Instead of my Mother's admonitions in my head, at this point I thought how if I had to call my roomate to get help because I was lying broken at the bottom of a precipice I was going to be so ticked off.
Looking to my right flat cliffs rose for several hundred feet and extended for longer than I could see. Above me I had a steep slippery snow filled funnel with one sled mark down the middle, not possible to climb. Off to the left as I leaned out I could see a possibility for more gradual descent about one hundred fifty yards across a ledge. The biggest problem was that thick snow lined all but the very edge of the cliff, making the 'path' more dangerous then it already was.
As I planned my strategy looking from branch to craig to tree I also considered the potential fall. Thin snow covered jagged rocks below the sharp and slippery cliff that I would be scaling. Every muscle in my body, already tired from hours of rigorous and tense work became taut with anticipation of the demands about to placed on them. There would be no room for mistakes, slips would be met with immediate consequences.
I began, working as before, reaching branch to twig. Stamping down snow to reveal the gaping of rocks below. It took forty five minutes to move the one hundred yard to the decision point. I reached stable footing hugging a tree from which I had to choose to go down and hope that it was the correct descent point or work up and further across the mountain. Either way I could not see which way would lead safely down. Once I made a decision I would be committed and could not go back due to the deep snow and steep elevation. I said a prayer asking which way I should go. I looke up, down, up, down and felt good about going down. This was one of the many times my prayers were answered granting me safety.
Last month I made a Summer 2008 adventures list. It has things I want to do such as go to the Grand Canyon, make a video to upload on YouTube, and kiss someone on the top of Squaw Peak. Last year during a hike to the Y a man I met suggested another path which leads around the Y mountain. It is a mere 10 mile hike and is a circumference of the entire mountain, showcasing remote landscape, camping spots and even a drinkable fresh-water spring. This hike made the cut, so at twelve twenty nine in the afternoon I set up the trail to the Y in shorts with four Arby's sandwiches and two full bladders of H2O in my camelback.
I reached the top of the Y approximately twenty two minutes later. After a one minute recovery period I continued up the steep in pursuit of uncharted territory somewhere above and behind. Another thirty minutes passed and I reached the campsite beyond the mountain. My pace had not been blistering but I would say it was a respectible clip and I was proud of the progress I had made. Another five minutes and I was tredging through two feet of snow and several inches of mud.
The next hour consisted of losing the path, blazing a trail through bushes, snow and mud to higher ground. After two hours of demanding hiking I sat on a rocky precipice overlooking the Y (which looked very flat from my vantage point) and all the outlying communities eating several Arby's Melts. I was satisfied, and tired.
It had been a strenuous hike and my mind was already weighed with the voice of the Eagle Scout within saying hiking alone, off the path, in uncharted territory was a bad and dangerous idea. What if I slipped on a muddy snow covered patch and hit my head on one of the jagged rock patches. Before leaving my apartment I had told my roomate where I would be going and that he was the only one who would know, joking that if I never came back...he would know where to send the search team. I had to be extra careful for the risks I was taking.
One thing I was not willing to do was to go back the way I came, how boring, and defeating. As I looked down from my perch I considered finding a descent straight down, I could see my car. After thirty seconds of trying this method I discarded the idea. The hundred foot cliffs were not as forgiving as I thought they could be. The only logical (and masculine) conclusion was continue on the back side of the mountain and head for Rock Canyon, the canyon the path would have met with if I were still on it.
I trekked up and over the summit the mountain, back into the snow and across the side of the mountain. The mud and snow and bushes were annoying and presented with slippery footing most of the way. Once I reached a clearing I could see the drop-off towards Rock Canyon ahead. As I looked over the precipice I realized my situation.
I looked down at over 3500 feet descent largely covered in snow, the expanse winding down toward the base lost to sight by many obstacles, twists and turns. My heart beat faster. There was no way I was going back since I had hiked so far already. Going ahead looked like it could be suicidal and I knew once I started down there was absolutely no turning back. I started down.
Cliffs on either side I chose the most gradual entry point which required scaling a ten foot rock face, then another, then another. With ropes, a buddy, and dry ground it may have been a challenging, tricky, focused climb. Now, two feet of snow covered slippery crumbling rocks which broke through with almost every step since runoff had created hollow spaces. Soft snow was slippery and mud more. Realistically the average grade was probably about 35%; almost straight down. All this combined with being alone, I knew my Mom would kill me.
I took each obstacle slowly and methodically, knowing that the slightest slip could leave me with at the least broken bones and at the most, worse. Slipping many times I used tree branches, fingertips full of rock, and twigs to balance and control each step. Caution was my only thought.
Well that is not exactly true. For the last hour, since coming to the edge of the precipice, I had begun praying, and not always silently. I called on the Lord to protect me as I made each advance to the next rocky promontory and obstacle. I wish I could more accurately paint the picture of how much in need of help I was at each and every step of my journey down this ravine. My prayers often came in the form of hymns (the only reason it was good I was alone) which I could feel reached to heaven with each verse. They also came as verbal gasps as I strained to hold on and maintain a toehold. Thus was my situation.
After some time I came to what looked like a very wide (about 100 yard wide and 150 foot long) half pipe with snow covering the ground. After how hard I had been working I was ready for a break. I thought "If Bear can do it on Man vs Wild why the heck not" I sat down and began sliding down the mountain in my shorts, diggin in my heels to slow and using my frozen hands to guide. It was a moment of fun.
As I flew down this snow highway I saw it drop off ahead. I dug in to stop and delicately worked my way over to the side. Grasping the only tree I leaned over and saw that there was a twenty five foot drop down. Instead of my Mother's admonitions in my head, at this point I thought how if I had to call my roomate to get help because I was lying broken at the bottom of a precipice I was going to be so ticked off.
Looking to my right flat cliffs rose for several hundred feet and extended for longer than I could see. Above me I had a steep slippery snow filled funnel with one sled mark down the middle, not possible to climb. Off to the left as I leaned out I could see a possibility for more gradual descent about one hundred fifty yards across a ledge. The biggest problem was that thick snow lined all but the very edge of the cliff, making the 'path' more dangerous then it already was.
As I planned my strategy looking from branch to craig to tree I also considered the potential fall. Thin snow covered jagged rocks below the sharp and slippery cliff that I would be scaling. Every muscle in my body, already tired from hours of rigorous and tense work became taut with anticipation of the demands about to placed on them. There would be no room for mistakes, slips would be met with immediate consequences.
I began, working as before, reaching branch to twig. Stamping down snow to reveal the gaping of rocks below. It took forty five minutes to move the one hundred yard to the decision point. I reached stable footing hugging a tree from which I had to choose to go down and hope that it was the correct descent point or work up and further across the mountain. Either way I could not see which way would lead safely down. Once I made a decision I would be committed and could not go back due to the deep snow and steep elevation. I said a prayer asking which way I should go. I looke up, down, up, down and felt good about going down. This was one of the many times my prayers were answered granting me safety.
I worked my way down a checker board of trees, drops, and rocks until, finally, I was on a clearing of snow. Although steep it was more inviting than it should. I stopped to rest on a flat-topped rock and get some feeling back into my fingers and give my legs some time to stop shaking. I knelt (figuratively since I had cuts on both knees from slamming into rock as I stopped my fall several times) feeling closer to heaven, now halfway down, than at the top of the mountain.
The rest of the way down consisted of sliding down four hundred feet of snow, climbing several more ledges and other obstacles. As I stepped onto the groomed path at the bottom of Rock Canyon I let out another shout of joy, feeling success, gratitude, relief and pain. The remaining several miles walk out of the canyon and across the front of Y mountain was a humbled champions march. Just under five hours after starting I finished and drove away.
So I made it out, without becoming one of the statistics. Profound meanings flood my mind as I recall the experience. Draw from it what you will. I know I was watched over, preserved, after all I could do. I live to have other adventures where I draw closer to heaven. Isn't that what life is about.
1 comment:
Oh my goodness- what an adventure!!! It sounded amazing but I'm also glad you made it out alive! :-) P.S. Happy Birthday!!
Bekah Paredes
bkparedes.blogspot.com
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