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Published: September 23rd 2013
A Dose of Outside
A Dose of Outside is intended to share a bit of nature with you as experienced on my local hikes and other adventures. Take a moment to look out the window or step outside and see what it is you see. What you smell. Notice what’s growing around you. Use all your senses and really get A Dose of Outside!
HIKE DATE: Mount Conness Summit, September 7, 2013 There’s no feeling quite like being on top of a mountain. The perspective is unmatched. You are closer to the heavens, far from reality and the certainty of how small we are in the grand scheme of things is ever present.
I sit in awe for the last moments before we need to start heading down the mountain. The smoke from the fires is upon us and is muddying the skies in nearly every direction now.
Okay! We look at the map and it shows a trail around the left side of Alpine Lake. Alpine Lake is over the southwest side of the ridge.
We make a point to observe the only other two people we’ve seen all day as they head down from the summit block, vowing to pay attention to which way they go and where they pick up the trail down.
We put our packs back on and start towards the other edge. There is a trail here, but it’s steep and sandy, strewn with rocks. Oooh. Ooouch. My legs are toast. I’m very ,very sore and my muscles are
spent. I’ll need to be careful on the way down.
We’re half way down from the summit block and I reach for my Nalgene for a precious sip of the remaining water. I’m thirsty! Uh oh. It’s not there. I turn around and look back. Oh boy. There it is. My purple beauty still perched back at the summit. It fell out of my backpack.
Alrighty then! Two summits in one day! I walk back up, cursing the extra energy I’m forced to use retrieving it, but we need that last bit of hydration for the hike down.
I have no idea what the terrain is going to be like for the descent, but I’m hoping for a cushy, wide path. My knees and shoulders and every other part of me is cursing my existence.
As we trek down from the summit block we discuss walking along the edge once on the plateau, so we can see what is below.
We’re talking about the day and the beauty of reaching the summit. Suddenly we notice the trail has veered west and down. Maikki stops us and says she thinks we need to be going the
other direction. We are clearly on the path, but somehow we must have missed a turn? I wonder if this trail loops around and drops down, and it does, but just not in the right direction.
We backtrack which requires going up. Not far, but for some reason my lungs start to rebel. It’s a feeling I’ve not had before, they feel like they are imploding. The pain and pressure are immense. I mention it to Maikki as I’m slowing, trying to relax my abdominal muscles and give my lungs some room. She says it’s probably the fires.
Once we’re on the ridgeline again we find a trail down, hopefully it is ours. We can see Alpine Lake below so we just need to get down to it so we can pick up the trail that heads around the left.
This trail is incredibly steep. Ugh. The way down is almost, if not moreso, perilous than the way down. The goal of reaching the summit has been met and the focus and concentration are not as sharp as they were on the way up. Bodies are tired, minds are tired. It’s critical to not be too distracted
as most injuries occur on the way down.
My knees are screaming. This girl doesn’t normally do the type of exercise required in this climb and my body is completely maxed out. But we are still a very long way from camp so I need to keep it together.
We reach the next shelf. Whew. I snap a quick picture, but the time for photos is over as the sky darkens, our goal is to get off this mountain and get off our feet so we need to keep after it.
The trail becomes strewn with large talus again which requires even more leg work. I start to scoot down rocks on my bottom to save precious energy in my legs. And frankly, they just don’t want to do it anymore.
Finally, we make it down to the next shelf. I start heading right and Maikki starts heading left. I thought I had seen the trail heading around this way from above, but she says that is just a gully so we keep left.
Here everything appears to be a trail. It’s sandy, rocky terrain with paths, runoffs, things that appear to be paths, everywhere.
We continue on and the going gets tougher. The “trail” is now just large rocks in every direction once again. We still need to get down to Alpine Lake so we start over the talus.
Ugh. This is drudgery and oh so painful. I’m grateful for my awesome REI pants which mostly protect me as I scooch and slide along the rocks.
Finally, FINALLY, we make it down to Alpine Lake. It was much further than it looked. Surprise, surprise.
But there is no trail on the left side of the lake. Disappointment sets in. We consult and decide to just follow the shoreline around the left side anyway until we can intersect with the trail.
It’s not too long and we pick up what appears to be a trail again. Yay! It is heading more due east, however, but this is a more gradual descent and less likely to insight a fall.
We’ve left our headlamps off until the last minute, allowing for night vision use as long as possible. But now that time is past and we need light to continue.
I have a super headlamp and know it will do the
trick so I’m not concerned. This is not my first nighttime climb. I prefer the daylight, but there is something special about a night climb. The only bummer about this one is that it means we are way behind schedule, and previously the nighttime portion of my events was at the start, not the finish.
Anywho. . .We check in with each other about which way. “Looks good.” We’re heading a bit east then south, hoping for an easier way down.
It’s looking like we’re getting somewhere! We’re heading down, down and then we’re at the end of the line. A sheer drop off with no way down.
So we continue a bit further along, still following a “trail”. Again we are met with a sheer drop off. This sucks.
One more time. If we can just get beyond this edge. . .but it’s a canyon and there appears to be no way down. We’re both near the end of our ropes. It’s dark, we’re tired, thirsty and Maikki has a husband and baby waiting for her back at camp that don’t know where we are.
I told Ville about my SPOT messenger, but there
is no cell or internet service at camp so the point was moot.
I remind Maikki that Ville seems to have the utmost confidence in her abilities and I was also sure they could see our headlamps coming down the mountain. After all, we were the only fools still up on this rock in the dark.
Maikki says she’s about ready to freak out and I know I’ll be the one to get choked out since I’m the only one here, so I say let’s go down, right here. And we do. Downward movement, Yes!
It looks pretty good for a little while, but then again we are faced with what is now a challenging down climb for us in our fatigued conditions.
I would like to just sleep here. I visualize just curling up on this rock and getting a little shuteye before the morning. Just a little rest. . .
But no. We need to keep going. I carefully climb down, twisting my ankle slightly. Frankly this is the least of my pains at this point.
We’re able to head steadily down for a bit, but then need to curve east a
bit and around. I check in with Maikki to make sure she’s cool with this slight direction change and she agrees it looks good.
Another 20 minutes and I look down and what’s this? A TRAIL! THE trail! Oh yes indeedy, we are almost out of the woods, literally. Or so we think.
Maikki turns north on the trail which heads back up the mountain. We’re both so tired.
We’re heading the correct direction now. Along the river, heading southeast. Oh it’s heaven to just have the reassurance that we will be arriving somewhere hopefully soon.
And we walk. And walk. And walk.
It seems ridiculously far, although I never knew the mileage in the first place. I think we both felt, or were hoping that once we hit relatively flat ground we would just about be out. Nope.
I start to sing goofy songs and jabber jaw. To help me stay awake and also to make some noise just in case there are predators in the woods. I doubt there are, but I’m cautious nonetheless. I don’t want to startle anything big and hungry looking for a last meal before winter hibernation.
It seems like we go on FOREVER and finally we come to a landmark on the map. A research station. It still looks very far from the road back to the campsite, but it’s hard to tell anything with the scale of the map.
For the 100
th time, I’m optimistically thinking we’ll be hitting the main road in just 5 more minutes. Nope.
Finally after another mile or so we reach the river crossing. There are two paths here, but only one showing on the map. We take another look and see that the distance from the research station to the river crossing looks very small on the map, yet it was at least a mile. Oye. . .
We determine the correct path and carry on. And on. And on. We finally reach Saw Tooth walk in campground. A nice spot! Something to keep in mind for the future. So we must be somewhat close to the main road!
My feet are pounding in agony with every step. My knees hurt like crazy and my back feels like it’s going to snap with the weight of my pack. I try to alleviate some of the
pressure using my trekking poles, but my upper body is so fatigued it’s impossible to find any relief.
Ahhhh!! The road!! Now it’s only ½ mile back to the campground. This part of the road is asphalt and the pain intensifies by at least double with each step. It’s hard to move fast, but we are both anxious to be DONE!
I pull out some of my air dried pineapple and strawberries. We each have a couple bites but there is no appetite left.
It was the longest ½ mile ever, but we finally make it. I stop at my car, give Maikki the loaner gear to return for me in the event it was needed early in the morning. We produce a weak High Five and she heads off to her family. I then gingerly take off my boots and try to get my swollen feet to fit into my Ugh boots. Ouch. . .
Back at my campsite everyone is asleep and the bear box has an unavoidably loud locking mechanism. I open it as quietly as possible to retrieve some magnesium powder. I also don’t have any water, so I have to walk,
ohh, over to the spigot and pump some water for tonight and the morning.
That’s it. It’s all I can do. I know I should eat and take this and that, which I don’t know where this and that are, so I just change and plunk into my tent. My face is covered with 141/2 hour old sunscreen and a thick coating of dirt, but I don’t care. I can’t move.
But sleep alludes me. I’m in too much pain. Surely after time the fatigue will overwhelm the pain and I’ll dose off, but it never happens. I watch the sun come up and it’s another beautiful day in the mountains.
I pull off my sweats to see what the fuss is about and can tell why my legs hurt so badly aside from me over taxing them. They are covered with goose eggs, bruises and small cuts. As are my hands and arms. Ouch. . .
I get out of my tent. . .OH BOY! Wow. Okay, that was amazingly painful trying to stand up. Glad all my neighbors have departed as it’s now Sunday morning. I limp and groan my way over to the toilets and make an effort to hover. Yikes! Glad there is something to hold onto.
Back at camp I start to roll up, thinking I may take nice easy hike around the lake this morning. Work it out a little bit.
I go down to the group site to visit with Ville, Maikke and the rest of the group. Just this effort helps me decide that although I want to take full advantage of my time in the mountains, it’s time for me to go home and nurse my wounds.
On my way out, I stop by the side of the road to take a look at the descent side of the mountain. I snap a couple pictures to examine later. As I am returning to my car, I see someone has dropped something in the road. I walk over to pick it up and see it is my baggie of dried pineapple and strawberries. Road snacks! Cool!
It took me 5 days before my body would allow me to do a squat again. It’s been two weeks and my shins are still painful to the touch from the impact bruising on the rocks. I really need to get in better shape!
I'm told some of the moves on the 3rd tower were class 5-6, 5.7. The route was roughly 8 miles and took us 14.5 hours with a summit height of approximately 12, 595.
Some of you may be wondering, would she do it again?
As far as the rope skills go, I’d love to learn more and would definitely do it again.
As far as free climbing on a sheer rock face a couple thousand feet in the air with nothing but a drop off below me? Probably not. 😱
But I’m so very glad I did it and wouldn’t change a thing about it. I learned and experienced so much. As they say, life begins outside the comfort zone and it is so true!
Big thanks to Maikki for taking me along and teaching me a few basics of rock climbing. I also want to commend her on her presence of mind throughout the climb. Through all the difficult times she kept her head and her cool which takes a lot of guts and strength.
Thank you to Ville and Kauis for letting mama go have an adventure. To the gent who so kindly loaned me his gear. To the meet-ups organizer for putting the event together. To my husband for his patience while I run around the mountains.
Y tambien, Gracias A Dios para el Mundo! Mother Earth, your lessons are infinite.
Please feel free to share this blog with anyone you feel might enjoy it. (There are usually additional photos at the bottom of this post as well.) This blog will be published frequently and on an irregular schedule. Below is the link to my jewelry website featuring one-of-a-kind designs as well as tons of free photography downloads from other adventures!
www.chellesjewelry.org
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mom
non-member comment
I'm gasping
great adventure. I'm so grateful you experienced it