We were up on Guy Peak spending a day practicing self arrest and crevasse rescue. The day was a perfect day. The world was a marble of blue sky and white snow; we kicked steps in deep powder and the boys told one bawdy joke after another for hours. For the first half of the day we slid down the mountain like penguins, belly down and head first, flipping around and digging in the metal head of the ax into the snow, screeching to a stop.
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| And girls? He's a firefighter. |
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| Paul and Phil, if you read this, you only look sad because you didn't come to the brewery afterwards. You are not dead and frostbitten as it appears. |
Besides, by this point in the training my butt was soaking wet and freezing cold and it was hard to sit still. This is why mountaineering is tough. You're supposed to be paying attention to the intricate ropes and the snow conditions and the weather and all (I) can think about is how my butt cheeks are succumbing to frost nip. But I was determined to learn this rescue shit. After all, this was merely a refresher course for me. I'd studied rescue and rope technique in the Alps when I was 16. (I'm rawther unsual that way, rawther well traveled.) Not that it made a lick of difference- I didn't get it then and didn't get it now. It's not like I don't comprehend the idea of pulleys, levers, weight distribution. That's yer basic physics right there. But when it comes to putting it into practice, I'm completely dumbfounded. There's a reason I wear running shoes with little tighten-ties instead of laces.
I half crouched in the snow and tried to focus on John. John in his green jacket. John looping another knot onto another biner. John and his super expensive but totally worth it glacier glasses. Should I buy those glacier glasses? I should have asked for them for my birthday. My birthday was a lot of fun. And so it goes. My mind started to wander. I looked up into the deep, heavenly blue skies, I looked East into the sharp, dramatic ridges of the Cascades. Then I looked over to my left, to the other half of the snow field that was divided from us by a little gully, and saw a mother fucking avalanche.
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| John Lebens, the leader of our expedition |
I half crouched in the snow and tried to focus on John. John in his green jacket. John looping another knot onto another biner. John and his super expensive but totally worth it glacier glasses. Should I buy those glacier glasses? I should have asked for them for my birthday. My birthday was a lot of fun. And so it goes. My mind started to wander. I looked up into the deep, heavenly blue skies, I looked East into the sharp, dramatic ridges of the Cascades. Then I looked over to my left, to the other half of the snow field that was divided from us by a little gully, and saw a mother fucking avalanche.
It was completely, confusingly silent, big chunks of snow swirling downhill in a very fluid manner. I was the only one to see it, and as I watched in horror it just kept rolling away down the mountain. It looked as if the entire hillside was just packing up and leaving. "Hey!" I say, finally, pointing with a fat, gore-tex gloved finger. "What in hell is that?"
(What in hell is that. What did I expect them to say? "It's nothing." "It's just a flesh wound." "It's just ketchup, sweetheart.")
"THAT," Said Sheel, the most serious of the troop, sweet and normally soft spoken. "IS AN AVALANCHE." I lept to my feet, ready to spring, heart pounding. Avalanches are my second worst fear, right behind abstinence only education. The other boys looked over with mild curiosity. I was freaking out.
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| The boys descending, heading towards the avalanche slide |
"Yes," continued Sheel, all business. Sheel had recently taken a few avalanche safety courses and, like me, was on high alert. He spoke in short, matter of fact sentences. "I read the avalanche conditions today were bad. The sun is starting to warm the snow. The snow is loosening. Avalanche danger is high. I suggest we get out of here as soon as possible. I suggest we tack beneath that cliff."
Well, that was all I needed to hear. I grabbed an ice axe and flung myself downhill. As I tumbled down I could hear a discussion going on between Sheel and the others. John pointed out that our side of the slope really wasn't in danger of avalanching whatsoever. Technically, I could see how this was true. The beginning of Guy Peak's rocky, snow-less cliffs began a short distance away. Between us and the cliff there was only a 50 yards or so of snow that could loosen and launch. The conditions were quite safe. But none of that matters when you are RUNNING FOR YOUR LIFE. Which I most certainly was.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??" I screamed at the boys. "LET'S GET THE HELL OFF THIS MOUNTAIN!!!"
I made it down to where our bags were, and frantically started packing up, thinking oh man oh man oh man avalanche avalanche AVALANCHE!! Suddenly the whole hill looked unstable, trembling like jello, dripping and melting and shaking, the same adjectives that could be used to describe my own constitution at that moment. I hooked the ice ax to the outside of my pack and roped it down, then started taking huge bounds down the mountain.
As I took off, a little tiny voice piped up from deep within. Maybe you should have helped them pack up the demonstration equipment instead of leaving it all to John? Such a meek little voice. TOO LATE! bullhorned my brain. SAVE YOURSELF!!
"Hey!" I heard Sheel calling from above, and I froze in fear. He was waving his arms, trying to get my attention. It was most certainly another avalanche and it was absolutely heading straight my way.
"I can't find my ice ax!' He hollered. "It's gone! Do you have it?"
I stood still for a moment. I had little flash of memory of being at the top of the hill and grabbing the very first tool that I could get my mitts on. I dropped my pack and looked at the ax. It was clearly much too long for me. It wasn't even the same color as mine. "MAAYYYBEE" I shouted to Sheel up the steep, snowy mountainside. Then, after a pause "How badly would you say you needed it?"
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