022210, 2AM, Day 3 Part 2: Just moments ago Search and Rescue told us we were on our own. So much for being airlifted on a chopper. Wonder if we’d have to pay for an air rescue. Nah, I pay taxes. Not that it matters though cuz we’s walkin’ outta dis biznitch. Anyways, according to SNR, we have to keep walking in the direction we’re headed (which we don’t know). And, the trail will get steep (i.e. “just shy of cliff.”) And, once we cross the valley and climb the slope we’ll be on Old Butt Knob (maybe). Oh, is that all? Well, shoot. Honey, set me a plate. I’ll be home in a few.
CHRIS: Dude, this totally blows. Let’s get off this mountain before the weather hits.
COOP: Word.
We scrap lunch, pack up, and get walking. Terrain is ridiculous. 60° slopes with obstacles every 2’. Waist-deep snow, ice-covered boulders, leaf-covered holes, Mordor-sized fallen trees, and my personal fav, rhododendrons. It sucks. No wonder SNR doesn’t want to come get us. I wouldn’t want to come get us.
COOP: Clouds are clearing.
CHRIS: Good news.
COOP: NOAA’s calling for snow showers tomorrow.
CHRIS: Bad news.
OBK is .7 miles away. That’s 8 city blocks. We’re exhausted. Have to plan every step to avoid a game-changing injury. Thanks to the terrain, fatigue, and 40 pounds of gear we cover the distance in a whopping 3.5 hours (or .2 mph). @5:30PM we finally reach OBK. Coop has a signal and calls SNR.
SNR: Follow the ridge ‘til you hear a creek, then follow the creek to us. Be careful, there’s another steep slope ahead. We’ll have someone waiting who will walk you the rest of the way.
COOP: Sounds good.
SNR: Let me blow my horn and tell me if you can hear it.
COOP: Nothing.
SNR: Eh, probably just the trees.
We press on. @5:45 we see the first trail in over 8 hours. We take it. Now onto the steep slope SNR warned us about. Zig, zag, slide, step, fall. A sucky dance number we repeat over and again. Screw you Dancing with the Stars. If either of us busts a move we’ll go tumbling down the mountain. On a suck scale of 1 to 10, this slope sucks. Después de cuarenta y cinco minutos llegar al fondo y todo está bien. Gracias a Dios.
COOP: Hello!
CHRIS: Hello!
Nothing. No response. Slipping and sliding down another slope we find the infamous creek. Shazaam!
COOP: Hello!
CHRIS: Hello!
Nada. Sands of daylight are running out. Headlamps go on and we continue down the side of the mountain careful to keep the creek at our 3 o’clock . Traveling became a little easier. Well, not really, but we weren’t climbing over boulders or downed trees or through vineys. Argh, our shins are starting to bruise a deep dark Prince kinda purple. Gotta stop soon. Lights out, lamps on. Night falls and Senor Rhododendron drops a patch in front of us once again.
CHRIS: For serious?
COOP: Yup.
It’s insane. 30’ of bushwacking into the vineys and it’s apparent that pushing through this shiitake at night is a bad idea. Time to rethink our strategy.
- Option A. Press on through Mordor and run the risk of getting more lost, injured, or both.
- Option B. Turn back towards the creek and make an attempt to follow it down.
- Assessment. When you’re hiking, you want to be able to look at the terrain ahead of you and plan your next move. You don’t want to have to change your route when you’re at the waterfall or precipice…especially at night. Option B it is.
Track back to the creek and the sight is sore. Creek is grown over. Not like creepy-neighbor-down-the-block kind of grown over. It’s the kind that would make a God-fearing Christian man curse like a WWII sailor. Coop steps down from the bank and on to the creek bed. Slip, fall, slide. Then me. Same result. A 12′ naturally occurring slip-n-slide. Water soaks everything. We’re wet, cold, tired, and hungry. To our left is a 4×6 patch of uneven flippin’ hilly ground between two creeks. Moses, pull this caravan over, it’s time to bed down. ~6:45PM the tent goes up and I go in. Shaking uncontrollably, I’m worthless. Coop stays outside and makes oatmeal and a bottle of hot water (thanks Coop!) A half-hour later we’re both zonked. Throughout the night, sounds bounce off the hills. People? Dogs? Coyotes? Cats? Nah, probably just the creek. At one point I awoke and saw lights off in the distance. Excitement fills me until I open the tent to see a pair of headlights. Not all bad though. The road couldn’t be more than a mile or so…right? Then the back of the tent starts shaking. Coop wakes up. We both pop out of the side and came face to face with a horrible sight. It’s go time. Coop stabs out its charcoal eyes, and I rip off its pinecone nose. Together, we tear him down flake by friggin’ flake. For the love of Pete, Nature, just let us sleep!
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