The Chief wrote:Of the 24 years on active duty, every day of 23 years and six months of that were a near death experience....

Every day on Deck and every day in the air over the skies of Antarctica, Mogadishu, pulling SAR's in the Valley and responding to the many Crash Fire scenario's.

Climbing wise, do not even want to think about it.

Got far too many scars, both physically and emotionally, to prove it all.

Chief - my young nephew is a nightstalker with the 168th Brigade, I think it is. He's just returned from a tour in the Middle East and was in Colorado again for more training. I suspect he'll be going back soon.

The Blackhawk crash here in CO this past summer? All friends of his. He's 22 and writing a will. One of the fellows who was found alive was conscious for three hours and then, as my kiddo said, "he just gave up the ghost."

He's faced much more at his age then I ever did. I know you get this.

Long story short, I drive from Reno up to central Oregon to do the South Sister in Early January. On Saturday I snowshoe the Crater Lake Rim Trail and then drive up to Mt. Bachelor Ski Resort where I discover that the Cascade Scenic Byway has been closed for the winter, making my adding nearly 10 miles in snowshoes to my approach. 5 Cliffbars in hand, I leave my car at 0430 Sunday morning and end up summitting at 1630 (12 hours later) that afternoon after walking across bulletproof ice and visible crevasses on the Sister.
The sun sets just after 1700 and I have miles and miles and miles of backcountry epic to get back to Bachelor. Using the stars as waypoints, I manage to return to my car with my har loaded with chunks of ice at 0230 Monday morning. I kept falling asleep (I had ran out of food by noon) swearing a snowmobile was coming to get me. By the time I had left Oregon, I was thankful to be alive and spiteful to have been nearly consumed by the Deschuttes Wilderness.

I was attempting a mid-winter (July) mountaineering climb up to the tall reaches of Cerro Plomo near Santiago, Chile during a study abroad trip this past year. After securing enough resources to tackle my high-altitude worries (the Spantiks are the greatest boots out there), I set off alone from the Valle Nevado ski resort to cover my nine mile approach in snowshoes to the foot of the mountain. After a frigid night spent at 12k, I decided that with bad weather rolling in, my best bet would be to push for a summit attempt on the 18k monster the following morning. After climbing strong to 15,800 feet, I came down with acute mountain sickness and proceeded to vomit chocolate all over my down parka. In my weakend state, I succombed to the driving wind and -36 degree temps and fell where I stood near my vomit mess. After regaining consciousness, I was able to move down the mountain slowly down an ice-covered rock band slipping in and out of a conscious state. After reaching my cache at 13,500 ft, I again blacked out from coughing so hard under the cold shadow of the mountain.
Somehow making it back to my camp under a fantastic icefall, I passed out solid with my fuel bottle open and my "kitchen" in shambles outside my tent. I awoke to my tent being crushed and pummeled by a large cornice that had broken away atop the icefall. The small avalanche pushed my tent down hill and buried my encampment completely (no more fuel).
I dont exactly recall how I had made it back to the backside of Valle Nevado, but I do remember puking up blood beside a group of relaxing skiers and being wisped away by a snowmobile (my South Sister wish coming true) to the farmacia-like hospital at the resort suffering from hypoxia (still), hypothermia, exposure and severe exhaustion. I couldn't muster the strength to understand the broken english being spoken to me nor possessed the energy to converse in spanish back to them that I couldnt afford an ambulance ride back to Santiago. After 2-3 hours in the warmth of the farmacia with a constant supply of fluids being forced down me, I recovered enough to walk away under my own power outside where I hitched a ride illegally with a ski tour group back to Santiago.
You should check out the blog...

http://inviernoenchile.blogspot.com/

Guyzo wrote:

Mountainjeff wrote:Watching my climbing partner free fall 500 ft down a steep snow coulior and realizing that I was alone in terrain that was above my skill level, miles from a trail, with an unconscious partner.

Only unconscious?

You got lucky.

Tel the tale...

we were descending Mount Deception, in the Olympic Mountains, via the Southeast gully. His pack caught most of the direct blows, but his helmet broke off after the 3rd hit. Ended up causing the most difficult helicopter rescue in Olympic National Park history. He spent one month in a coma and another month in the hospital recovering. I survived with a permanently damaged knee and a hell of a lot of bad memories. It took a while to get over that one. My partner, against all odds and doctors predictions, is now fully recovered and we have done several climbs together.

I almost had a heart attack yesterday meeting Lolli at the airport and talking to DMT at the same time!

Mountainjeff wrote:

Guyzo wrote:

Mountainjeff wrote:Watching my climbing partner free fall 500 ft down a steep snow coulior and realizing that I was alone in terrain that was above my skill level, miles from a trail, with an unconscious partner.

Only unconscious?

You got lucky.

Tel the tale...

we were descending Mount Deception, in the Olympic Mountains, via the Southeast gully. His pack caught most of the direct blows, but his helmet broke off after the 3rd hit. Ended up causing the most difficult helicopter rescue in Olympic National Park history. He spent one month in a coma and another month in the hospital recovering. I survived with a permanently damaged knee and a hell of a lot of bad memories. It took a while to get over that one. My partner, against all odds and doctors predictions, is now fully recovered and we have done several climbs together.

Wow, The luck of the draw.

gk