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| Photo courtesy of Omar A. |
A Story From the Life of James C.
Ghostwritten by Omar A.
Climbing St. Helens
The clock ticked midnight, while the alarm sounded. It’s finally time. I thought to myself, waking up from my 5 hour night. My first attempt at climbing Mount St. Helens just began. People might think that I won’t be able to do it, but I was just going to prove them wrong. Not just with my determination, but also with my attitude.
The two and a half hour drive to the mountain nears an end as I caught site of my destination off the highway. My excitement overwhelmed me, as my plan of climbing this mountain became a reality. I set the goal when I moved into Oregon in 1978, and now it was May of 1979. I parked my car at the final parking destination, grabbed my night pack and set foot on the mountain trail. Three thousand feet high, the moon was shining bright through the clouds as the cool summer breeze sent an extra chill throughout my body. I scurried out to the trunk, where I piled up layer over another, fit my crampons atop my shoes, and hesitantly grabbed the ice axe, wondering if it would just add weight or serve a purpose.
I set forth on the 10,000 foot high mountain. The wind brutally hit my cheeks. I had mentally and physically prepared for the harsh winds, but I had yet to physically accept the conditions. My cheeks couldn’t move to form neither a smile nor a frown. My toes couldn’t wiggle in my snow boots. Stiffness paralyzed my fingers under my thick gloves. Still, I trudged forward. The dedication and commitment overpowered any thoughts of quitting. As I climbed forward, I imagined the glory and pride of standing on the top of St. Helens, until suddenly, the wind gained momentum.
I couldn’t control the speed at which I slid down the hard-crusted snowy mountainside. I was moving faster and faster down the mountain, trying to kick my crampons into the ice. The wind had blown me over on my stomach, and kept on blowing me down, making it harder for me to stop myself. Luckily, I remembered the ice axe and quickly swung it into the hard ice. I stopped sliding, and carefully dug my crampons into the snow, securing a position on the 45-degree tilt. Pulling myself up to my feet, I continued to climb up the mountain. I kept on climbing cautiously until another breeze took me over.
“Noooo” I thought. Falling onto my stomach, I immediately sprang into action. I grabbed my ice axe and swung it as hard as I could to stop my second fall. I was still accelerating down the hill fast, feet first. These falls were no joke. People could fall long distances, hit something and die if they couldn’t secure a hold onto the ice. However, for the second time, I stood straight up again, and continued up the mountain. Those two falls weren’t enough to bring me back down; the thought of the joy that I would have if I reached the top overpowered any alternatives.
So, I continued, until I fell for the third time.
This time it was scary.
Damn scary-- to the point where the daylights were scared out of me, but my fight or flight mechanism forced my body into action. It was the cruel wind, again, but this time it threw me on my back. Not feet first, but head first. Speeding down a 45-degree tilt head first on my back was going to kill me eventually, if I didn’t stop myself; and the only way to stop myself was to get on my stomach and turn my body 180-degrees. It wasn’t easy, but I wasn’t ready to die climbing a mountain. I fumbled and turned and finally reached the position of feet first on my stomach, still going down the mountain at an increasing speed, but managed to force a sudden stop. Standing up, I reluctantly decided to call it a day, but certainly not the last attempt, as I remembered my new baby son back home. Although I turned back home after the potentially fatal fall, I wasn’t going to shatter my goal of reaching the top of St. Helens.
Two weeks passed since my near death experience. The anger that I couldn’t reach the top during my first try fueled me to attempt to the mountain climb again. Throughout the two weeks, all I could think of wa
how I could reach the top on a second try. I wouldn’t know until I would go and try again. “Maybe, just maybe, I can try again tomorrow on Saturday” I thought. And so I did. I slept at seven, woke up at twelve, and took the two and a half hour ride to my parking spot at 3,000 feet up on the mountain. I fit into my crampons, grabbed my ice axe and my backpack, and set out for the climb. It was a clear, beautiful night, nothing like that windy night. I began my second attempt to reach to the top, but of course something stopped me.
This time, it wasn’t a fall, an animal, or even my thoughts. It was blindness--- from the point that I couldn’t see beyond my shoes. All I saw around me was white, like a blank sheet of paper in front of headlights mixed with the night sky, still I climbed on. The breeze wasn’t strong enough to pick me off of my feet, but it was growing. Until, I reached the high elevation, where it was snowing hard and the breeze was much stronger.
Snow, fog, and mist was everywhere-- on the ground, in the sky, and all around me. I couldn't see in front of me, and I was on a volcano!!! Figuring out my direction was impossible. I stopped walking. Thoughts of cliffs, wild bears, mountain lions, coyotes, and spending the night on the mountain filled my head, as I pictured my son’s smile. This was more frightening than falling on St. Helens during my first try. The pride and glory wasn’t worth risking my life.
“I’ll just try some other nice day,” I thought and set my ice axe on the ground, turned my backpack around, and grabbed my compass. At least I knew that my car was north of where I was standing. I headed towards that direction, clutching the compass in front of my eyes. I walked for a while, before remembering that my compass was not pointing to the real north, but rather earth’s magnetic north, due to the magnetic declination. My compass was 23 degrees off in the northwest region. I quickly adjusted my direction, and within an hour, I was in front of my car. Nice. I rode back home, thinking about my next attempt, and the two passed failed attempts. I was still not ready to give up on my goal.
Another two weeks passed, and this upcoming weekend’s weather was the best so far since the last devastating weather conditions on the mountain that brought me down. I couldn't have done anything to improve how I would climb it again, other than having better weather. And this was it. Tomorrow would mark my third attempt. I gathered my equipment and went to bed, setting my alarm for midnight.
As the alarm clock vibrated, I grabbed my belongings, and set out. This time, there was no returning unless I reached the top. I drove two hours, parked, and headed up the mountain. The night was crystal clear, with just the right amount of breeze. The moon shined brightly as I trekked, noticing other climbers. Nothing was going to stop my determination- no falls, no snow, no second-thoughts. I climbed along, growing in altitude, witnessing the sunrise, and finally, after a long and exhausting climb, I was standing at the peak of St. Helens. Excitement and pride overwhelmed me as I stood observing the distance. I took out my camera and started clicking away until my film was out. I turned in every direction and admired the view that stretched miles away from the mountain, under and over the clouds. The joy overpowered my cold, and a relief that I had achieved my goal forced a smile on my face.
After my excitement settled down and I had spent some time on the peak, I journeyed back the 7,000 feet to my car. The entire way down, I was thinking how I finally reached the top after two harsh attempts. I couldn’t wait to share my accomplishment. It was the biggest accomplishment I had achieved after the couple failed attempts. I was finally able to prove those who were doubtful of me climbing the mountain incorrect. Looking back at the three different attempts, I wouldn’t be able to explain how I had saved myself in those deadly situations. It just comes to you, and I know that anyone can always do more than they can think, that you just have to rise to the occasion. And as I rose to the occasion during those scary times, I saved myself to live through other final positive attempt. I was certain that my determination and attitude were eventually going to pay off. I was fixed to reach the peak. And I did.
