The Mountain always wins

Pam, my ex, had a dream in which I lay dead at the base of the mountain, bloody and mangled. She woke up with a horrendous panic attack, almost had a total meltdown.

I blew it off, said it was just her anxiety disorder.

You know how I say it's only a good trip if I leave some skin and blood on the mountain and come home with a story?

Well, here’s another one.

 Last week, I thought I found an easier way up the 60 degree slope to the mine we obtained permission to explore, but today as I climbed what I thought was the right route, I missed the old ore cart track I planned to use as a marker to turn right, found myself on top of the ridge instead, realized I was up too high, more than 300 ft above the canyon floor.

Followed the ridge south, but after 30 minutes, knew I’d overshot the mine entrance, which is like a small cave and hard to find from above.

Shit.

I searched for a way down, but heavy deadfalls and almost vertical slopes frustrated me everywhere I went. I was terrified. I’m a bent and twisted cripple. Nobody would look for me above the mine. They’d just never believe I could be up there.

Double Shit. 

“1-2-3 GO!”

I slid on my back and scrambled down the ridge til I could get re-oriented. Jagged rocks and such everywhere. My buttocks are black and blue. Again! One cobble nearly ripped off my nuts.

Quit laughing at me!

Cause I know you are.

Or you are now.

So stop laughing at me!

I finally found the truck, started all over again. In the freaking rain.

Damn.

After scrambling around for a total of nearly 2 hours, I found the mine, arriving just as RB and Bob were about to look for me.

Not that they’d’ve ever found me.

We took a break. I was gasping for breath at 8000 ft. 

We entered the mine a few minutes later. To get in, I had to sit, then slide on my ass down a 10 ft slope of, you guessed it, more sharp rocks.

Right away, RB noticed some old det cord in the dust by his boots. He could easily have lost a foot if he’d stepped on it. Carefully, he removed it from the mine, then returned. We followed the ore cart tracks until we reached the place where we found sphalerite and various pyrites last week, in the back of the main tunnel, right beside a deep vertical shaft.

RB and Bob set up lights and battery packs.
Light showed the sparkle and glitter of pyrites, quartzite, calcite and other shiny minerals everywhere.

RB and Bob went to work with hammers and chisels. I held the light, but I looked around, thinking, 'Hmmm... some of these overhead slabs look unstable.’

I said so, but they just shrugged and kept on pounding. Bob found some pockets of gem-quality sphalerite.

Cool.

RB worked in a spot I told him not to. I know my stuff about rock mechanics. First blow and a 3x3 sheet of limestone skarn wobbled and nearly fell.

My turn to say, "Toldja so!"

<whew>

We worked for two hours. I even took a turn with hammer and chisel.

Afterward, I'm beat and still have to get down the mountain. Going down is hard for me. I have to zigzag and my left leg is very weak at the best of times. I got about 20 feet down the steep slope, but started a landslide.

Damn.

If I were to fall, I’d roll and bounce all the way down to the truck, about 300 ft.

I was stuck.

I tried to turn around, but I was in very loose material. My left leg wouldn’t work right, just worn out. 

“1-2-3 GO!”

“Okay, okay.”

Inch by inch, I made my way to a narrow, 12-in wide game trail, then followed that a little way to a sturdy pine tree and just leaned on it for a while. There was no place to cop a squat or sit.

Double Damn.

I thought, “Maybe I can make it to an easier path if I stay on this trail.”

As my Hueytown friend David Jones recently told me, “Pete, wandering off the trail has not been kind to you over the years.”

Literally and Figuratively.

“1-2-3 GO!”

“Damn it! Shut up! I’m going!”

I pushed off the tree. The rocks under my feet started sliding. I grabbed at a dead branch, but it broke and I went sliding down the mountain. Again. Slammed my ribs on a boulder, my left hip on another. Rocks and sticks left scrapes as I slid on my back and butt through and over fist-sized chunks of jagged limestone. I came to a stop after a 30 ft slide. I was on a ledge not 3 ft from a 30 ft vertical drop. Bruises all over my back and left side.

My heart pounded in my ears. I couldn't catch my breath. Ribs hurt bad. Left arm looked like I stuck it in a bag of angry cats.

Triple Damn!

I was so tired, my legs so weak, I didn't think I could make it down. Still, the view was spectacular. I pulled the camera from my pocket and shot a photo of thellano and the Lemitar Range.

I rested for a few minutes knowing I had no choice but to slide the rest of the way. The slope was too steep for R & B to help me as they passed by.

Bob said he'd be back after he got his pack and gear unloaded, but I didn't want him to get hurt.

RB agreed, said they’d be watching for me.

After a 10-minute rest, I started the descent.

Obviously, I made it. 

When I arrived at the truck, RB was pacing and fuming.

There was a ticket (traffic citation) on the windshield for an expired registration, made out to Woody. RB borrowed the truck from him.

I couldn't help it. I laughed my black and blue ass off.

Who gives or gets a ticket on a barely visible side road miles up a wilderness canyon?

On the other hand, we’ve got an arsenal with us.

There’s more than bears in ‘em ‘ere woods.

We didn’t see a ranger on the way out.

<whew>

By the time we got down as far as Box Canyon, the truck engine started missing, then died.

Schnell and I had that happen once after a climbing expedition. We made it from Box to Chris R’s house on Garfield, across from the funeral home and near the Capitol Bar, about 7 miles, all downhill.

We coasted the Chevy all the way to where the highway intersects the main drag, but the light was red.

Quadruple Damn!

I got out and walked all the way to our apt. Took me an hour. RB got somebody to pull the truck to Woody's house, where they left it. Dead. With the ticket under a wiper blade.

HAHAHA! 

I bet Woody is PISSED!

Anyway, that was my last climb up the mountain. I'll go hike and hunt rocks, but no more climbs, no more mines. The odds of falling are just too high!