At 6:00 a.m. on the morning of October 27, 1998, Lyn Sadler and I set off to climb McHenry�s Peak.
As we hiked up the trail to Mills Lake, darkness shifted around us, and our headlamps reflected shimmering ice crystals on fallen leaves. The first heavy frost of the season had descended that night.
At Mills Lake the rising sun reflected shades of red in the water, a Bull Elk was bugling his morning song. On the trail between Black Lake and Mills, we were lucky to see a Pine Martin.
At Black Lake we discussed our route. I had not taken the time to read about the route up the mountain, as Lyn usually did this. Lyn had read, but only quickly. She remembered something about a route that was west of Black Lake. It was shorter and more challenging than the longer eastern route, which wound up to the bench above Black Lake. Although both of us had failed to bring a guide book with us, we decided to try the western route.
Black Lake is a beautiful mountain lake. Arrowhead Mountain and McHenry�s Peak tower above, and there is a crystal waterfall winding its way down over slick rocks and ledges. We started up to the right, or west of these falls, along the edge of the rock slabs. There was a faint trail which soon faded out, and we found ourselves forced onto the rocks which seemed easier than the awful scree we had been struggling up.
Winding back and forward on these ledges, we soon found ourselves being pushed nearer the waterfall. Some of the ledges now were only wide enough for our toes, and we started to realize we were getting into a predicament. But we had covered a fair distance, and did not want to go all the way back, so we pushed on regardless.
We got to the waterfall and found it was frozen. Lyn made her way across carefully, then she went off to scout the route ahead. We were now close to the bench above, that would lead us safely to Stone Man Pass.
I started across the ice, and was almost across when my boot slipped.
They say when you are about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. But for me, in one split second I envisioned my body thumping its way down that rocky waterfall, a cry from my lips �Noooooo,� being quieted only as my body hit that icy cold, black water, my body a mangle of broken bones. I imagined Lyn, up on the bench, frozen at the sound of my scream, all alone, feeling guilty and scared and bereft, not wanting to believe what she had heard.
In the same instant, the other half of my brain was thinking how I could save myself. As I began to slide, fear gripping my heart, I noticed a wide, rugged crevice just below to my left, and my right hand shot out and pushed me towards it. Somehow my left leg found its way to the crevice and I rammed my leg into it. With a jolt, I stopped.
For a moment all I could hear was the pounding in my head. I was frozen to the spot in fear. Where was the pain? Surely it would come any second? But it didn�t. When I looked down, I saw my leg was intact bar some scrapes. I moved cautiously, and made my way across the rest of the waterfall. On solid rock again, I stood shaking, but Lyns voice came to me and brought me out of my state of shock.
�Well, I found a way up, but you're not going to like it,� she said.
A few more steps to my left, and I saw the problem. The ledge I was standing on dead ended in a rock wall about 3 ft deep, which was the edge of yet another smooth rock slab. With my eyes I followed the dihedral crack, until they met Lyns eyes peering down at me.
�All you have to do is get up this, and it's easy from here,� she said with encouragement.
�No way,� I exclaimed, �I don�t know any of this technical stuff, plus I�m in hiking boots and carrying a heavy pack.�
�Look I know it's not easy, but I made it, I�m sure you can too.�
After checking around for another route, I finally accepted I had no choice, I certainly was not crossing that waterfall again.
�OK, I�ve done worse than this on my own, just not with a thousand foot drop beneath me� I told her. �Here I come.�
�Oh God I can�t watch,� muttered Lyn, and turned away still muttering to herself. �Please don�t let her fall.�
I was scared, especially after my encounter a few minutes before. I remembered watching a tape once on rock climbing, about how to make hand holds and other neat moves, and decided I could do it.
�God be with me,� I said loudly, and just went for it.
Crab like, hand over hand, foot over foot, not thinking, just doing, up I went and bumped right into Lyn, and I had to push her out of the way.
�Oh quit your mumbling,� I said, �I�m here, now move before this Juniper bush gives way under my weight.�
Never had either of us been so relieved, well, with the exception of five minutes earlier in my case. A little more scrambling through juniper bushes and we were safely on the bench above Black Lake, and I was singing:
�First I was afraid I was petrified, kept thinking I would never get off this mountain alive, but I�ll survive, I will survive,� and other such nonsense.
Tired though we were, and as late as it was in the day, there was no looking back now. We popped Tylenol, ate and were on our way up Stone Man Pass and the long haul up McHenrys Peak. The few narrow ledges near the top were a breeze now, and a little later we stood triumphantly on the summit.
This still was not the end though. They say things come in three. My third was about to happen.
On the summit we admired the view, and took pictures of each other in various ridiculous poses. Lyn was getting ready to pose on a rock in front of The Keyboard of The Winds when I heard a strange noise drifting towards us on the slight breeze.
I looked over to Lyn to see if she was hearing it, and she was standing, one ear cocked towards Pagoda Mountain, a puzzled look on her face. As we listened the noise got louder, sounding just like a freight train coming directly at us. As I thought this, I watched Lyn�s eyes get wide and the color drain from her face.
�Drop!� she shouted as she suddenly dropped to the ground and flattened herself against the rocks. In the same moment, I dived behind a boulder and clung to it for dear life.
I had heard stories of people who got blown off mountain tops. I believe someone had been blown off the top of Mount Lady Washington just a few weeks before, and I had wondered how that could possibly happen. Surely, if it is windy you do not get near the edge, right?
But as this freak wind roared down the valley, and gusted up the side of McHenrys Peak, with the full ferocity of a hurricane force wind, I understood, because had we been laughing or talking, we too may have heard it too late.
It had been quite a day. Tired, and weary we took the safer route home across the bench, and made it to the trail right at dusk. Just before Black Lake we saw the Pine Martin again.
We were safely back at our cars at 7:30 p.m., thirteen and a half hours after we started out.
At the gas station, I noticed people giving me strange looks. Upon inspection I noticed my leg was streaked with blood and had many gashes in it. I smiled, knowing how lucky I was, and felt joyously happy to be alive.
Lyn and I have done many more mountains together since that day in October 1998. Now we always take the guide book with us and study it and the map first. We also carry a rope, and a small selection of other climbing gear, despite the extra weight. Had we had a rope that day, crossing the waterfall and climbing up the dihedral crack, could have been done safely. Had we carried the guide book, we never would have got in a bad situation to begin with. We live and we learn.
By Roxy - [email protected]
Tales From The Trail - 2003
Below - Roxy on the summit of McHenry's Peak just before the big wind. In the background is Pagoda
Mountain, The Keyboard Of The Winds and Longs Peak.
