“I just thought,” he began quietly, “well, I thought that if I could plan a successful trip, it might prove to Ellie that I’m not still the annoying twerp she despises.” I noticed his neck grow red as he finished his explanation, and I also saw Marshall give his brother a knowing look. Was Sawyer saying that he liked my sister? Or maybe he was just hoping to make up for the Smelly incident. Why else would he need to prove to Ellie that he was capable of planning a hike? We already knew that he had planned several short trips for his local backpacking club, so surely he didn’t need to prove himself to his family. He wanted to impress Ellie! I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but hey, I could root for him.
Back to the obvious safety issue, I could understand why he opted to keep our adventure a secret, but I still wasn’t sold on the part about not telling anyone our whereabouts. I almost asked if we could alert the local ranger, but I knew that the ranger would insist on telling our parents, which would certainly put a stop to the plan. Besides, the idea of seeing the world from this peak during a full moon was starting to thrill me.
And, I couldn’t ignore the fact that the full moon happened to land on the night two full days before our families were scheduled to summit according to Dad and Caleb’s plan, which would give us adequate recovery time. Maybe this trip was meant to be after all. Feeling a new wave of assurance, I headed toward the tent to pack.
“Supper’s ready!” Mom and Julia Miles called. Dad and Caleb had gone to the stream and pumped our water. Usually we would have all gone to purify our own drinking water, but I just now realized that we kids had been so caught up in our plans that we completely missed their short trip to the stream. I hoped that during supper our parents wouldn’t ask what we had talked about.
As the nine of us gathered around two small backpacking stoves, Caleb said the prayer. I noticed that he asked God to bless our families not only with safety and fun, but also with a new sense of unity. Unity – that made me think. I remembered Dad and Mom saying how backpacking often brings groups together like no other experience. Struggling through the wilderness together, offering first aid to each other, spending every waking minute with a group, enjoying the happy moments of victory and enduring the tiring moments of blisters and lost trails could unite a group of individuals into a tight-knit family. Maybe this teenagers-plus-Lydie midnight hike would be just the thing to unify us. I even convinced myself that Caleb’s prayer gave us the go-ahead to take this hike. Okay, now, I was fully ready for this. Mentally, anyway.
3
I woke hearing a muffled cough just outside our girls’ tent. That was the plan. Not wanting to attract any attention to our departure, Sawyer drank two whole liters of water just before bed. Two liters sounds excessive, but after a day on the trails, nothing tastes better than cold, mountain stream water. And this early in June, the streams are filled with snow melt from higher in the mountains, so the water is so crisp and cool that it is easy to guzzle a liter.
When Sawyer woke up to relieve himself, Marshall tiptoed to our tent and coughed a few times before tapping the sides of our tent to wake us. I wasn’t sure that coughing in the night would wake me up, not during a backpacking trek. Usually while on trail, I could sleep through a tornado. The fresh air, combined with hiking all day long while carrying a 25 pound backpack puts me into a deep, long sleep. I suppose the anticipation for what was ahead of us caused an adrenaline surge when I heard his cough.
Lydie was the first to pop up, and pop she did, reminding me of a popcorn kernel. Eyes bright, she eagerly began shaking Ellie. Typically Lydie is slow to wake, spending three to four minutes rubbing her eyes and rolling back and forth, as if she could somehow roll time back to nighttime. Then after a few enormous yawns, she stretches her arms and finally sits up, opening her eyes. I’ve shared a room with Lydie since she was little, so I’m as familiar with her sleeping patterns as I am with my own.
Meanwhile I sat up and stretched my arms toward the top of the tent, feeling the excitement wipe away my grogginess. While on trail, our families usually turn in for the night about 8:00 p.m. It sounds early, but after a full day of hiking, tired feet and bodies crave a comfy sleeping bag. And in the mountains, the sun sets much earlier than it does in a non-mountainous area, due to the height of the peaks blocking the sun’s rays. Once the sun sets, the temperature drops quickly, and burrowing into a down-filled sleeping bag feels like a cold washcloth on a feverish forehead. Rising at 11:45 p.m., my mind and body were not ready to start another day, but my adrenaline was.
Ellie’s sour attitude had been overtaken by positive energy. Apparently, she had applied my “mind over matter” speech. The thought made me giggle, thinking that something I had said would have inspired my older sister. Truth be told, she probably reached this attitude by her own determination.
We had agreed that not a word would be spoken until we were across the meadow from where we camped, just to ensure our quiet departure. Silently, we reached for our headlamps, mindlessly laced our boots, loaded our relatively small packs onto our backs, and began the walk to meet the boys at the other side of the grassy plain. When we met the boys, their faces glowed in the moonlight and they looked as bright eyed as if it were noon.
“Morning, girls,” Sawyer nodded. Marshall just grinned.
“First things first, we pray,” Sawyer stated. Everyone bowed their heads, and I linked arms with my sisters. Sawyer began, “Dear Father in heaven, You are amazing. We see this wilderness You have created, and we are humbled.” Wow, Sawyer had grown up. I didn’t dare sneak a peek at Ellie right now. “We are stoked to have this opportunity to take this moonlit hike. I pray that You would keep each of us under the shadow of Your wings and return us to our parents safe and sound. And thank You again for this trek. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
We all quietly nodded, “Amen,” and then, without turning my head, I glanced at Ellie. She was giving Sawyer that same warm, respectful look that I had seen just before the packing list incident. Sawyer did not notice as he turned to lead the way.
For the first hour, we hiked without talking much. Our boots crunched on the rocks, which gradually became covered in snow as we gained elevation. As we walked on in single file, led by Sawyer, then Marshall, Lydie, me, and Ellie in the rear, we watched the moon climb higher into the night sky. We heard an owl, watched a porcupine cross the trail just ahead of us, and startled a coyote away from his catch. Most of the time, we did not even need our headlamps. A few times in the trees, we clicked them on, but when we reached tree line, it may as well have been 10:00 a.m., as bright as the moon shone.
The night temperature was cool and comfortable for hiking. I felt almost like I was dreaming, with the beautiful moon overhead lighting our way and the sounds of nature accompanying our hike. It was beautiful, and I found myself thanking God for, as Sawyer had prayed, this wonderful opportunity. I hoped that I would remember the hike forever.
As the grade steepened into the ridge, we stepped away from the last of the trees. We were at tree line, where trees no longer grow on a mountain. Sawyer stopped and motioned for us to gather around. Huddled in a circle, I could see that Sawyer was pleased to see four smiles beaming at him.
“All right Ellie, don’t thank me yet, but go ahead and tell me I was right this time,” Sawyer said lightheartedly.
I watched Ellie carefully, and to my surprise, she did not look annoyed at Sawyer. Instead, she playfully rolled her eyes and her lower jaw moved sideways before she admitted, “Yes, Sawyer Miles. You were right. This hike is,” she paused as if looking for an adjective that could possibly sum up this experience, “extraordinary,” she finished.
Though we all agreed with her word choice, nobody could believe that she had commended Sawyer. I actually saw Sawyer’s jaw drop before he smiled at Ellie. Before her compliment could go to his head though, she playfully punched his shoulder and said, “Where next, Captain?”
Lydie, Marshall, Sawyer, and I turned to stare at Ellie.
Never before had Ellie said anything so supportive to Sawyer. Maybe she was the one who had grown up more. Calling him Captain was instilling in him that he was worthy of our trust, that he had authority. I expected Ellie to have fought for the leadership role of this hike, but when she asked him where the trail went next, and then called him Captain, I realized that Ellie was letting him lead. Wow. I could only imagine the satisfaction that Sawyer must have felt. Then I snuck a look at his face and could see the satisfaction visibly written in his eyes and smile. And even in the moonlight, I think his cheeks grew red. Quite red as he continued to smile at Ellie. At that moment, she evidently felt embarrassed by what she had said, and she quickly turned away from the group and made a big deal out of checking the time on her wristwatch.
“Next, we hike up the ridge,” Sawyer explained and pointed with his hand. “I can see from here that it’s pretty snow-packed in a couple hundred yards, so Ellie and Marshall, be ready to put on your crampons. When we break to put them on, we’ll rope up, with Lydie and Marlee sandwiched between climbers wearing crampons. Let’s put Lydie in the center position since she’s the only climber without an ice axe.” Lydie nodded in agreement. I was confident with Sawyer’s plan. Being roped up would keep the group together in the event that one of us would lose footing. If that happened, the falling climber would shout, “Falling!” and all the other climbers would “self arrest” with their ice axes. To self-arrest means to throw your body against the ground, forcing the ice axe into the snow, which makes an anchor. Hopefully the anchoring system created by digging four ice axes into the snow would stop the fall before the climber slid too far. It made perfect sense to arrange us so that Lydie and I were surrounded by climbers with crampons.
I reached my hand to the base of my pack and lightly felt my ice axe. Dad had practiced with me at least a dozen times this past winter at a park near our home. Up the steep bank we’d walk, and then without warning he would push me into the hill. I had to shout, “Falling!” and practice my self-arrest technique, where I held the T-shaped head of the ice axe against my chest, rolled onto my stomach, and firmly pushed the pick end into the snow. The goal is to stop quickly, because of course, the longer the slide, the faster you fall, which becomes very dangerous in rocky environments. Dad and I practiced long enough that I felt mostly sure of my ability to react properly. I was glad to have the chance to use my ice axe for real, in the mountains of Colorado.
Just as Sawyer said, a couple of hundred yards up the ridge the snow began to feel slick. Our boots sank in almost to our knees, and he halted us and began skillfully tying bowline knots in his climbing rope. Looking at his rope, I could tell that it was new, and I was sure that Sawyer was ecstatic to be breaking it in with a moonlit summit.
“Is that the peak?” Lydie interrupted my quiet inspection of the rope.
“Afraid it’s a false summit, Lydie,” Sawyer said. “According to my guide book, we’ll climb over two false summits before finally seeing the top of this mountain.”
“How are we doing on time?” Marshall asked as he curled down to fasten his crampons onto his boots.
“We made excellent time this far, which is good, because with this grade and now the snow, we’ll slow down quite a bit. We’ll have less dense oxygen at this elevation, even compared to last night’s camp. The plan is to either peak or turn back no later than 3:00, so we can be sure to be back by the time our parents wake up at 6:00,” Sawyer explained.
Sawyer tied each of our waists into loops on his rope, with Marshall closely observing his every move. I noticed Sawyer dramatically slow down his tying of two of the knots so his brother could better see how to form the bowline on a bight. A bight is a loop of rope. Watching him expertly tie us in and kindly show his brother proved to me that he would make a fantastic guide. Ellie must have had a similar thought, because I saw her shyly watch Sawyer as he tied her knot. When he finished it and looked up, she gave him a timid smile, which he returned.
“Helmets on and buckled,” he announced, quickly snapping back to the task at hand.
“Ready,” four voices called back.
Up we went. We must have climbed up the ridge twenty minutes at a steady pace when suddenly the snow disappeared. “How does this happen?” I asked to anyone who had an answer. As elevation increases, air’s ability to hold moisture and heat decrease, meaning that the higher the mountain, the more snow there usually is.
“I suppose,” Sawyer began thoughtfully, “that this ridge had just enough sunlight in the last two weeks to melt the snow up here. But since it’s still early in summer, the sun is not high enough to dry up the snow lower on the mountain. And considering the steep grade, the snow up here probably slid down the mountain, explaining the knee deep snow we just encountered. Regardless of the reason, we need to take off our crampons. And I guess we can untie. It looks dry the whole way to the next false peak.”
In just minutes we were untied and hiking up again, our pace increasing now that the rocks were dry. The ridge to the next false peak, a high point in a mountain that appears to be the summit from certain angles, was a relatively easy climb, and we made it quickly. As we surfaced the top of the false peak, our heads instinctively tilted up and we gazed at the next highest point, which, according to Sawyer’s guide book, was the real peak. Well over fourteen thousand feet above sea level, it was an enormous beauty. And there we stood, with just another hour of hiking between us and what seemed to be the top of the world. We all gazed at that summit, and then exchanged eager smiles with one another. Lydie looked ready to bubble over with joy. Marshall and I seemed to share the same sentiment of wonder, while Ellie looked genuinely radiant in the moonlight. Sawyer reminded me of a proud father, ready to congratulate his family for an impressive accomplishment. In a way, he was. This hike had been his idea, so watching us approach the top of the mountain must have thrilled him.
The mountain face that loomed ahead of us was covered in snow. It angled toward the south, and it sure was a beauty in the bright moonlight. At first I found it odd that this side was again covered in snow, considering how dry the last false peak we climbed was, but then I remembered Dad explaining to me that south-facing slopes often have lots of wet, heavy snow in spring and summer. And I guessed that this ridge protected the previous false peak from snowstorms. And more than likely there had been an avalanche on the previous slope earlier this season. Up here, the ridge wasn’t as steep, so the snow had built up all winter and spring.
With a “Let’s do this!” from Marshall, we headed upward. I was about sixteen steps into the snow when I heard the roar. Before my mind even had to time register the cause of the sound, I cried out in panic. Sawyer shouted to us to run to the side of ridge, to try to escape the path of the white monster racing toward us. Where was Lydie? What would happen to my dear baby sister? In an instant, a blur of white, I was highly aware of Sawyer and Ellie racing to get to Lydie. I heard Marshall tell me to swim to stay on top of the snow. When the mass swept under my body, I gasped in horror as I felt the powerful force of nature. The fact that snow in an avalanche settles as densely as cement terrified me as I desperately thrashed my arms and legs and gulped air before crashing down, down into darkness.
The next 20 minutes felt like watching a too-realistic movie. I was terrified, and wished it was just a scary movie that I could turn off and forget. Forget the midnight hike, forget being body-slammed by a wall of snow, forget struggling for air. Then I thought of my parents and my sisters, and I decided to use every ounce of strength to see them again. Hearing Marshall’s voice gave me even more reason to fight for life, and when we were all reunited, I felt like we were going to be okay. We had survived an avalanche. Surely we could hike to safety.
4
