(no subject)
so. somehow i did it: made it to the top of a mountain and back down again.
on the way down, i thought to myself that this was the most physically and mentally challenging thing i've ever done. seems convenient- a towering mass of volcanic earth, and me, the feeble hopeful pushing through the limits and weather to make it triumphantly to the top.
but now as i'm sitting here, attempting to rehydrate myself, it actually doesn't feel that hard.
in the dark i had only a few things to concern myself with. it is early, 1:30 when we start out, and mostly i think to myself, everyone i know is probably just going to bed. i think about warm beds and laying in them, but the adrenaline must makes it impossible to really desire that. i am too asleep, and too in motion to stop and think about what it would be like to be in bed. a zombie, i stare through frosty goggles at joe's feet moving steadily in front of me. i concentrate on breathing through the fleece of my neck gaiter, sucking on a lemon drop to keep my throat warm. step...step...step.... slow, but with tempo. if we stop, i look at the lights of portland but it's like a postcard, i'm too asleep to really comprehend what a ridiculous thing i'm doing.
at 10,500 feet, we switched teams. i didn't want to be with the guide, dave, since he had continually forgotten my name the day before, or mark, because, well. i think he's kind of a pussy. but whatever. we keep a pace that feels the same as before, but its probably slower. i'm roped to mark, and matt is behind me. we start up the hogsback, after ditching our hiking poles and bringing out the ice axes. pick, step step... pick, step-step. my cramp-ons scratch against ice as we make our way up to the old chute. its grey. its just fog and nothing else. the lights of portland have disappeared, but the grey begins to change from deep and insulating to light and airy. the snow begins. it stinks. at the beginning of the hogsback, sulfur pits emit their toxic rotten-egg-fart smell that seems to penetrate through everything. my stomach tightens but really, i feel numb. i was tired, i guess, coming up, but i never felt like i had to stop, that there was no more to go. i ask dave how much longer, as we start up the old chute, an ice face of about 45 degrees UP that is the last 7 or 8 hundred feet of elevation gain. "an hour. maybe two". okay, i think, i can do another hour. hours have been times that are long enough to wonder how long its been, and then forget for a little while. there is no way to think about anything longer than that, just go until i'm told to stop, and then i can stop.
the old chute is steep. i mean. STEEP. through the grey i look left and see a rock tower sliced at such a deep angle that i have to look away. i can't think about where or what i'm doing, just pick, step step. watch the knot that my caribeiner is locked to, wait until it calls me. when it moves, i move, always keeping it in front of me. my neck is strained from looking down but i'm too scared to avoid missing a footstep. my ankles roll, making sure i plant 10 points of my cramp-on in the ice. i watch my feet and mark's frosted pack, blinking through eyelashes dipped in crystals. the freezing fog causes rime ice, and we are like slow moving statues covered with snow. we are silent, the grey glowing steadily brighter, but the fog hanging thick.
the top of the old chute is- n o t h i n g. it ends. i feel up, i feel on top of something, to some extent. three feet or so after the old chute flattens, a sheer drop down the north face of the mountain. i can see probably 40 feet or so down, to rock towers below, glowing with this ephemeral and holy light. there must be sun, and there must be air, but i can't feel either. the wind blows hard. we traverse a 4 foot wide walk way to the actual summit, but we are shrouded in such a thickness of fog and mental fatigue that even though each side is a deadly drop, i can avoid fear by staring at my boots. pick, step step.
this is it. lose the pack. i think i ate something. it is about 5 degrees above zero. the wind is howling through the holes on my helmet. i pee on the summit. its time to go. we stop for photos on the way down, and i'm smiling, i feel happy, perhaps even elated but this place is miserable and there is no point to stay. i have no desire to stay. i want to leave as soon as possible.
down is dreadful. no other way to say it. i can't look down the old chute to really grasp how long it is, but our guide begins to belay us down into the grey abyss. we lean back on our ropes, holding ourselves in a deep v against this mammoth face. the ride down is certainly not smooth but the altitude and exhaustion begin to take hold so i just hang on for the ride. the rope is probably only 150 or 200 feet long, so we have to stop every few minutes, cram in our cramp ons and ice ax into the face and hold ourselves secure while a new anchor is established. then we are lowered again, about 6 times over. though this process typically is the quickest and least tiring way to get down a steep slope (the alternative is side stepping down the whole thing. without crossing your legs over, try that down a hill for about 5 and you'll get the picture), for whatever reason this process took us 2 hours. at 11,000 feet above sea level, things begin to be a bit fuzzy and a bit uncomfortable after a couple of hours. basically, it sucked. there was nothing to do but hold on, have matt crawl up next to me, and help each other get food out of our packs and force frozen clif bars down. once down the old chute and over the hogs back, we're at the top of the palmer glacier and have about 1500 or 2000 feet of elevation to descend. its just snow field from this point, which is hell. with white-out conditions and my goggles fogged up and frozen over, its just an expanse of white that continues forEVER. easy enough to tromp down if you skip the last 7 or so hours of physical exertion, but that's not the case for me. about 3 hours and a few tears later, silcox hut is in sight. well, once we pull out the gps to have it point us in the right direction through the white.
did i really just do this or was it a dream?
on the way down, i thought to myself that this was the most physically and mentally challenging thing i've ever done. seems convenient- a towering mass of volcanic earth, and me, the feeble hopeful pushing through the limits and weather to make it triumphantly to the top.
but now as i'm sitting here, attempting to rehydrate myself, it actually doesn't feel that hard.
in the dark i had only a few things to concern myself with. it is early, 1:30 when we start out, and mostly i think to myself, everyone i know is probably just going to bed. i think about warm beds and laying in them, but the adrenaline must makes it impossible to really desire that. i am too asleep, and too in motion to stop and think about what it would be like to be in bed. a zombie, i stare through frosty goggles at joe's feet moving steadily in front of me. i concentrate on breathing through the fleece of my neck gaiter, sucking on a lemon drop to keep my throat warm. step...step...step.... slow, but with tempo. if we stop, i look at the lights of portland but it's like a postcard, i'm too asleep to really comprehend what a ridiculous thing i'm doing.
at 10,500 feet, we switched teams. i didn't want to be with the guide, dave, since he had continually forgotten my name the day before, or mark, because, well. i think he's kind of a pussy. but whatever. we keep a pace that feels the same as before, but its probably slower. i'm roped to mark, and matt is behind me. we start up the hogsback, after ditching our hiking poles and bringing out the ice axes. pick, step step... pick, step-step. my cramp-ons scratch against ice as we make our way up to the old chute. its grey. its just fog and nothing else. the lights of portland have disappeared, but the grey begins to change from deep and insulating to light and airy. the snow begins. it stinks. at the beginning of the hogsback, sulfur pits emit their toxic rotten-egg-fart smell that seems to penetrate through everything. my stomach tightens but really, i feel numb. i was tired, i guess, coming up, but i never felt like i had to stop, that there was no more to go. i ask dave how much longer, as we start up the old chute, an ice face of about 45 degrees UP that is the last 7 or 8 hundred feet of elevation gain. "an hour. maybe two". okay, i think, i can do another hour. hours have been times that are long enough to wonder how long its been, and then forget for a little while. there is no way to think about anything longer than that, just go until i'm told to stop, and then i can stop.
the old chute is steep. i mean. STEEP. through the grey i look left and see a rock tower sliced at such a deep angle that i have to look away. i can't think about where or what i'm doing, just pick, step step. watch the knot that my caribeiner is locked to, wait until it calls me. when it moves, i move, always keeping it in front of me. my neck is strained from looking down but i'm too scared to avoid missing a footstep. my ankles roll, making sure i plant 10 points of my cramp-on in the ice. i watch my feet and mark's frosted pack, blinking through eyelashes dipped in crystals. the freezing fog causes rime ice, and we are like slow moving statues covered with snow. we are silent, the grey glowing steadily brighter, but the fog hanging thick.
the top of the old chute is- n o t h i n g. it ends. i feel up, i feel on top of something, to some extent. three feet or so after the old chute flattens, a sheer drop down the north face of the mountain. i can see probably 40 feet or so down, to rock towers below, glowing with this ephemeral and holy light. there must be sun, and there must be air, but i can't feel either. the wind blows hard. we traverse a 4 foot wide walk way to the actual summit, but we are shrouded in such a thickness of fog and mental fatigue that even though each side is a deadly drop, i can avoid fear by staring at my boots. pick, step step.
this is it. lose the pack. i think i ate something. it is about 5 degrees above zero. the wind is howling through the holes on my helmet. i pee on the summit. its time to go. we stop for photos on the way down, and i'm smiling, i feel happy, perhaps even elated but this place is miserable and there is no point to stay. i have no desire to stay. i want to leave as soon as possible.
down is dreadful. no other way to say it. i can't look down the old chute to really grasp how long it is, but our guide begins to belay us down into the grey abyss. we lean back on our ropes, holding ourselves in a deep v against this mammoth face. the ride down is certainly not smooth but the altitude and exhaustion begin to take hold so i just hang on for the ride. the rope is probably only 150 or 200 feet long, so we have to stop every few minutes, cram in our cramp ons and ice ax into the face and hold ourselves secure while a new anchor is established. then we are lowered again, about 6 times over. though this process typically is the quickest and least tiring way to get down a steep slope (the alternative is side stepping down the whole thing. without crossing your legs over, try that down a hill for about 5 and you'll get the picture), for whatever reason this process took us 2 hours. at 11,000 feet above sea level, things begin to be a bit fuzzy and a bit uncomfortable after a couple of hours. basically, it sucked. there was nothing to do but hold on, have matt crawl up next to me, and help each other get food out of our packs and force frozen clif bars down. once down the old chute and over the hogs back, we're at the top of the palmer glacier and have about 1500 or 2000 feet of elevation to descend. its just snow field from this point, which is hell. with white-out conditions and my goggles fogged up and frozen over, its just an expanse of white that continues forEVER. easy enough to tromp down if you skip the last 7 or so hours of physical exertion, but that's not the case for me. about 3 hours and a few tears later, silcox hut is in sight. well, once we pull out the gps to have it point us in the right direction through the white.
did i really just do this or was it a dream?