well, I suppose I'll kick things off here with a little diddy i wrote lately.
We left early, before six in the morning because we were going to attempt a climb that most others take two days for in only one. We parked the car on one of the many scenic pullouts along the Going to the Sun highway and set out. The first part of the climb was a grueling vertical march up the side of a ridge called the Glacier Wall that separates the east and west portions of the park. We followed a dry stream bed that offered a small measure of protection from the snarled vegetation that would make any other passage impossible. It is difficult for those who have never experienced a climb to understand the physical stress it entails. After one hundred steps the legs begin to burn, after another fifty they are dead tired, the last couple thousand are taken on will power alone. Before reaching the top of the ridge we had to scout out and find a way up a vertical wall of rock twenty feet high. Finally on the top of the ridge we were able to begin our actual ascent of Heavens Peak.
We followed a wide elk trail along the top of the ridge enjoying the flat route, catching our breath while we looked down on hidden valleys and unnamed waterfalls. Our respite was brief however, as we were soon faced with the difficulty of climbing down a wet rock face to the floor of a hanging valley. When climbing, the connection of your feet with the ground is often a matter of life and death, and to be forced to climb on wet rock where that connection is tenuous is terrifying. We made it however, the only casualty being a camera in a backpack that dropped thirty feet. With out boots on dry land again, we quickly crossed the floor of the hanging valley, weaving in and out of the gigantic boulders, eerie evidence of past rock slides.
The rest of the ascent was similar to most others, a hard march up to the summit ridge and then an enjoyable hike to the summit itself. The one exception being when I chose to climb up a snow field while my partners decided it was too steep and took the long way down and around to avoid it. I soon regretted not following them, as I was furiously kicking my feet and pounding my hands into the hard packed snow, using the hand holds as foot holds all the way up. At one point, one of my feet broke through and I was left dangling on the side of the snow face waiting to see if the other would support my weight. When I got to the top of the snow field I saw my partners far ahead of me on the summit ridge, I could only shake my head and sit on a rock completely drained.
We summated around one o’clock and took our customary lunch there and each went off to ourselves to rest and reflect. It is hard to describe what goes through my head as I sit at the summit of a mountain munching on crackers and cheese. One would think the mind would take the sweeping panoramas as an opportunity to soar, but rather I find myself oddly silent; as if the climb itself is the education and the rigors of the body take their strength from the mind.
We collected our things, found the piece of PVC piping that housed the tattered register, signed our names, and began our descent. All went well until we arrived at the face of wet rock. The short ascent took longer than we anticipated and by the time we found ourselves once again on top of the Glacier Wall the sun was perilously close to the top of the western peaks. Now there was only the cliff that separated us from the dry streambed and our way home. We found the place where we ascended but the handholds were useless for our descent. We spread out to find another way down the cliff, walking on a steep grassy plane that stained the bottom of our boots a dark green. It was at this point, physically and mentally exhausted from the days events, that I slipped. I fell fast and hard and reached for anything to catch me and keep me from going over the cliff. What I found was a stalk of Bear Grass, it should not have been able to hold me. I pulled myself to my knees and eventually made my way to the top of the ridge.
We did not find a way down that night. We slept under the stars next to a small fire that we started with pages from our climbers guide. We woke the next morning reeking of smoke, and made our way down the mountain just in time to keep the rangers from sending out a search and rescue team.
If at the summit of a mountain, the mind is still, the climb itself offers much to think about when it is over and done with. After climbing, the small difficulties of the day seem trivial. After the adrenaline fades, its presence can be felt as a constant reminder of the hidden resources a body holds. After a stalk of grass saves you from a fall, you are willing to look for any solution to any problem with full confidence that one does exist. After you look back at the peak you just climbed, you know nothing is impossible.
