RBB
01-14-2009, 08:40 AM
My first year of college, I'm sorry to say, I spent less time in the books than I should have. I was going to school in Seattle and couldn't get enough of mountains. At that time, I could look out my window and see the Cascades, and across the hall I could see the Olympic Mountains. If I walked out to the fire escape on the end of the dorm, I could see Mount Rainier. That must have been the last year you could see all three at once - due to smog. My next year, and any subsequent visits - I could never see all three at once, and never so clearly as that first year.
I got in the habit, on weekends, of going up into Snoqualmie Pass and hiking up in the mountains. Little by little, I got together enough gear, rope, tent, ice axe, to do some climbing. One memorable weekend, I even got the lovely Carolyn to go camping with me. I was worried about the size of my tent, but she thought it was just the right size.
Several of us started going further and further into the mountains, sometimes missing classes on Mondays just to be in the mountains.
On the route we took, there was a long hike up a switchback trail that led to a huge ravine. A large Doug Fir had fallen across the ravine and we would carefully shinny across it with a leg on each side - until we came to a spot where there were branches and you could stand and use the branches for hand holds.
Beyond the ravine was a knife edge ridge. You could see the point of the ridge and figure you'd be there in 20 minutes. Several hours later - you'd reach it. If you followed the ridge to the peak, then back down the other side, still on the knife edge, you'd come to the most beautiful lake set between three peaks. It would always amaze me to find that jewel of a lake so high up.
When the heavy snow came that winter, I was very surprised to reach the ravine and - no ravine! It was packed full of snow, and I suddenly realized the little Christmas tree sized firs I was seeing were the tops of 150 foot trees. Well, it made travel easier, across the ravine, though upon reaching the knife edge ridge, there was a drift blown over - way above our heads. As we were all from the Midwest, and had no fear of avalanches, we just dug a tunnel through it and walked on the firm ciey snow above the ridge.
The point at which this got into a survival situation was toward spring. It was a beautiful day, shirtsleeve weather, and we were climbing back down at the end of the weekend. We were crossing the snow where the ravine should have been. The last guy in the party, Nate, was crossing the snowfield when the snow gave way. A huge hole opened up in the snow. We were in shock. Then we heard a moan out of the abyss.
One of our party, the smallest and lightest, began crawling out toward the hole. I called him back and we fastened a rope around him and attached the other end to several of the tree tops near the edge of the ravine.
Nate, it seems, had fallen 20 feet directly onto the Doug Fir we had used as a bridge in the autumn before the snow fell. Beneath him was a huge open cavern roofed by snow. He wasn't too happy about it, as he'd ended up straddling the fir, one leg on each side (with obvious consequences). On the other hand, the fir was about 150 feet above creek at the bottom of the ravine.
How to get him out. We tried letting a rope down to him, but when we tried to pull him up, the rope just knifed through the snow. In the end, we let an ice axe down to him, he scooted along the log as far as he could go and began diggin up while we dug down from the top.
By the time we got him out, it was after dark and we were wet and freezing cold. Nate was shivering uncontrollably, and we were stuck on the mountain in the dark. We got Nate to partially disrobe and get in a sleeping bag. A search of our gear brought up one book of damp matches (we were on our way out, after all).
I prepared to build a fire with more care than I ever had before. Winter and snow in wesstern Washington is not the same in Minnesota - where it has a tendency to dry out the wood. All the possible tinder in those mountains was covered with ice and had been wet before it froze. By pulling small dead branches off all the smallest trees we could find, spliting them, and scraping off the bark, I was finally able to get a fire going to the point where we could use larger sticks and finally some decent size firewood. I was shivering by this time, and It was a long time before I could drape my wet clothing near the fire and get in my bag. It wasn't a pleasent night, but we all walked out in the morning.
I got in the habit, on weekends, of going up into Snoqualmie Pass and hiking up in the mountains. Little by little, I got together enough gear, rope, tent, ice axe, to do some climbing. One memorable weekend, I even got the lovely Carolyn to go camping with me. I was worried about the size of my tent, but she thought it was just the right size.
Several of us started going further and further into the mountains, sometimes missing classes on Mondays just to be in the mountains.
On the route we took, there was a long hike up a switchback trail that led to a huge ravine. A large Doug Fir had fallen across the ravine and we would carefully shinny across it with a leg on each side - until we came to a spot where there were branches and you could stand and use the branches for hand holds.
Beyond the ravine was a knife edge ridge. You could see the point of the ridge and figure you'd be there in 20 minutes. Several hours later - you'd reach it. If you followed the ridge to the peak, then back down the other side, still on the knife edge, you'd come to the most beautiful lake set between three peaks. It would always amaze me to find that jewel of a lake so high up.
When the heavy snow came that winter, I was very surprised to reach the ravine and - no ravine! It was packed full of snow, and I suddenly realized the little Christmas tree sized firs I was seeing were the tops of 150 foot trees. Well, it made travel easier, across the ravine, though upon reaching the knife edge ridge, there was a drift blown over - way above our heads. As we were all from the Midwest, and had no fear of avalanches, we just dug a tunnel through it and walked on the firm ciey snow above the ridge.
The point at which this got into a survival situation was toward spring. It was a beautiful day, shirtsleeve weather, and we were climbing back down at the end of the weekend. We were crossing the snow where the ravine should have been. The last guy in the party, Nate, was crossing the snowfield when the snow gave way. A huge hole opened up in the snow. We were in shock. Then we heard a moan out of the abyss.
One of our party, the smallest and lightest, began crawling out toward the hole. I called him back and we fastened a rope around him and attached the other end to several of the tree tops near the edge of the ravine.
Nate, it seems, had fallen 20 feet directly onto the Doug Fir we had used as a bridge in the autumn before the snow fell. Beneath him was a huge open cavern roofed by snow. He wasn't too happy about it, as he'd ended up straddling the fir, one leg on each side (with obvious consequences). On the other hand, the fir was about 150 feet above creek at the bottom of the ravine.
How to get him out. We tried letting a rope down to him, but when we tried to pull him up, the rope just knifed through the snow. In the end, we let an ice axe down to him, he scooted along the log as far as he could go and began diggin up while we dug down from the top.
By the time we got him out, it was after dark and we were wet and freezing cold. Nate was shivering uncontrollably, and we were stuck on the mountain in the dark. We got Nate to partially disrobe and get in a sleeping bag. A search of our gear brought up one book of damp matches (we were on our way out, after all).
I prepared to build a fire with more care than I ever had before. Winter and snow in wesstern Washington is not the same in Minnesota - where it has a tendency to dry out the wood. All the possible tinder in those mountains was covered with ice and had been wet before it froze. By pulling small dead branches off all the smallest trees we could find, spliting them, and scraping off the bark, I was finally able to get a fire going to the point where we could use larger sticks and finally some decent size firewood. I was shivering by this time, and It was a long time before I could drape my wet clothing near the fire and get in my bag. It wasn't a pleasent night, but we all walked out in the morning.