Fog

              I woke in fright to the intro riff of Kickstart My Heart. It is 2:30 in the morning and the last thing I want to do is to put crampons on my frozen boots and stumble around like a March bear. My climbing partner is fast asleep, and I do all in my power not to rip him out of dream land to join me in my cold suffering. He may as well get some more shut eye while I dick around with my gear. Is that pitter patter rain? In secret delight, anything for more sleep, I toss on my puffer and a fleece and peer out the tent for a live weather forecast. Nothing to see, we are in a fucking cloud. Water droplets in defiance of gravity hung in the air, saturating the rocks themselves. The wet, hateful cold. I retreat to my dry haven and pass out for a few more hours.

              Both of us awake this time, the crunch of ice approaches our tent. We are either dealing with a very large marmot, or some climbers are upon us. I poke out to greet the morning and to my dismay, the white blanket has budged not one bit. I now hear voices, but do not see faces until they are spitting distance. A couple of bushy tailed, bright eyed, March bears. They certainly are confused by the weather; I’m shocked they left their cave. “Yo man, you ripping the summit?” I inquire. “Yeah, our GPS has a full battery, and we hope to make summit in a few hours. This is our first time, wish us luck.” the trail blazer responds. “Word fellas, good luck. Be safe out there.” They vaporize into the clouds. What crazy fucks I think, in these conditions they better know what the hell they are doing. My partner and I discussed our next move, and we decided to pack up camp and tail it back down.

              Admitting defeat blows, but the mountain calls the shots. 14 miles and we are turned around, while others go on? I am certain they were making a poor call, but that little guy on my shoulder informs me they must be stronger men than I. More capable. The opposite shoulder, I hear another side of the story. They made a bad call. If one of them falls and fractures their tibia, not even God couldn’t save them. Let alone SAR, it would be at least 30 hours before a helicopter could even think about performing a rescue. I dissociate and let the brain chatter fall behind. I never go back on a safety call. After our lunch break, we passed the same pair on the way down. “We turned around shortly after we talked to you” the trail blazer confessed. I’m glad to know we all made it back safely. This is just a part of the journey, if it was easy everyone would do it. After all, Glacier Peak isn’t going anywhere.