Well, this is it: we’re moving down. Joe came into our tent
at around 10am and told us the news. Apparently the park rangers who had been
stationed up here at High Camp had moved down earlier this morning and strongly
recommended that we follow suit because a “Perfect Storm” is converging on the
mountain. Four low pressure (bad weather) systems are coming in from all sides.
Already the winds have started to howl and the snow almost horizontally
directly into our faces. We broke down
camp in these conditions and then proceeded to rope up into our two rope teams
to descend. The park rangers and another climbing expedition had already begun
their descent when we made our way to the top of the ridge.
Greg, my tent-mate,
was leading our team (it is standard procedure for the guides to be at the back
of the rope when descending). As he rounded the first narrow strip of the
ridge, which involves stepping around a massive rock with only a couple inches
of ground separating it from a very exposed drop, the a huge gust of wind
picked him up and he slammed into the boulder. It was hard for me to see
whether he had been injured, but we stayed there waiting for him to recover for
several minutes. He stood pressed against the rock, gripping it tightly with
his arms outstretched. A couple minutes later, Joe gave the call to retreat
back to High Camp. We set up a tent and huddled inside together, still in all
of our gear. Greg had bruised his knee pretty badly when he hit the rock, so he
took some painkillers. About two hours later, we made a second attempt at
descending. This time Travis, one of our guides, led at the front of the rope
team.
Luckily the weather had gotten significantly better and the wind had died
down a bit. About half way down the ridge looms a massive rock feature called
Washburn’s Thumb. This is where the
upper set of fixed lines are. We began descending this section, but
communication was difficult because one’s voice isn’t always carried around the
rock. With this in mind, we all proceeded slowly and cautiously. When I was
several feet from the starting point of the lines—out of sight of those below
me and only barely in the sight of those above—I felt a sudden, powerful yank
on the rope and a split-second later I hit the ground. On impulse I grabbed the
adze and shaft of my ice axe and self-arrested, which stopped me from being
dragged any further down. I dug my feet into the ice and adjusted my grip,
still in shock that someone had fallen. Joe yelled down to Greg, who had taken
a fall halfway down the lines, when it is most exposed. He appeared fine, just
shaken—a natural reaction. We waited there for several more minutes to
recollect ourselves before continuing our descent. We reached the top of the lower fixed lines
without any more incidents. From there, it was smooth sailing into Camp III,
where we all got some well-deserved recuperation time. Though it had not been
the most physically strenuous of days, the disappointment of going down added
to the mental drain of the weather and the fall made it the difficult day of
the whole expedition to that point. I
think that’s all for now. (I need to get some sleep.)
Update: Good news, folks! I worked out a deal with my guides
to join another Mountain Trip team that is currently at Camp III. We are
planning to cache back up at 16,200ft tomorrow, so if all goes well, we have
several potential summit days after that.
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