I. Commitment – Unnamed Cliff, Mount Rainier National Park, June 1973 The summer of my 16th year saw me return to working at Mount Rainier National Park with the Youth Conservation Corps (YCC), then a pilot program initiated by President Nixon. This was my second summer with the YCC, doing work on the trails and meadowlands. The year before had been filled with many new experiences, having been introduced to mountaineering and rock climbing, climbing Mt. Rainer twice by different routes, and being acknowledged as a promising young climber. “Super-climber” was my nickname at the camp. Having that early reputation can get to a 16-year-old’s head! At the time we were bouldering at about a 5.6 level in our mountaineering boots, though we’d never lead anything beyond class 4 in the mountains. We had our own all-metal MSR Thunderbird ice axes, boundless energy, and no concept of what was or wasn’t dangerous. |
Gary, Summit of Mount Rainier July 1972
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My very next memory was waking up in a tent covered with 3 or 4 sleeping bags. It was dark out. “Where am I? And what I am doing here?” I asked Sue, who was sitting with me. I tried to get up, but couldn’t move as a bolt of pain shot through my right hip. “Don’t you know? You fell,” she answered. She told me that another boy, Glenn, had seen me take a backward swan dive off the ledge, about 15 feet high, landing head down on a sharp boulder. It had made an ugly hole behind my right ear which was bleeding and bleeding and wouldn’t stop. I’d been unconscious the entire time until then, which was nearly midnight. I’d been carried down the talus slope and placed in the tent, and the other boy I’d been climbing with and Glenn ran down the 8 mile trail to the Carbon River Ranger Station to bring up a litter in the morning. |
YCC, Summer 1973
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To cut to the end of the story, I was driven to the hospital where I stayed for a few days, and then was able to be transferred home. I’d sustained a concussion, a puncture wound of my temporal skull, and a hairline fracture of my pelvis. It could’ve been ‘way worse. My doctor told me that if I’d struck my head a half-inch or an inch in either direction, I would have lost my memory or been killed. My mom said something that struck me, that perhaps there was someone up above who saved me for a reason. I thought long and hard about that, and about the Bible studies my sister had brought me to, and about what gave that little Sue so much strength. I knew she was a Christian. I decided to give it a test…
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Sue, YCC, Summer 1973
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grip on the axe, and immediately I was shooting down the gulley, bouncing up on the sun cups (sunken areas where the snow had sublimated directly to the atmosphere). I tried desperately to get ahold of my axe, which was attached by a two-foot leash to my wrist, as I didn’t want to get impaled by it, and I wanted to stop my fall by executing a self-arrest. But every time I tried to grab it, another sun cup would throw me up in the air again and I kept tumbling and whirling down the slope. I was completely out of control. I’d heard of stories where people had let go of their ice axes, and I’d retorted that those people deserved to die because one should never, ever lose their axe. But here I was with my axe and I bouncing together down a steep couloir, with no way to grab it.
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Magic Mountain
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and could take the big, scary chimney pitches. Even though we’d spent our first night sleeplessly, sitting on a reallysmall, down sloping ledge one pitch short of our intended bivy ledge, we’d managed to get to Big Sandy Ledge and had a restful second night. We grunted up the Zig-Zag pitches, and thoroughly enjoyed the spectacular open-air scenery of the Thank God Ledge. I led up the A3 aid pitch with many missing bolts, and had some memorable moments standing on micronuts and climbing atop bolt hangars to lunge for rotting slings hanging down. All that was behind us now. We’d made it to the last, easy pitch.
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My very next thought was, “Why is Rob yelling at me? And what is he doing ‘way up there?” I had been 40 feet above him, and now was 40 feet below, having pulled out all the anchors between his belay and where I’d been. I’d blacked out for about 5 minutes and Rob was frantic, for good reason. An 80-foot vertical fall is pretty extreme, and in those days usually resulted in massive injuries if not death. Fortunately, his belay was anchored with several cams and was super solid, my 11 mm rope was new, he was using a new-fangled Sticht belay plate, and my homemade harness held together! I had struck my head on something on the way down, and there was a golf-ball sized knot on the top of my head. The knot of the swami belt had pressed into my side and created a bruise that lasted for months. Other than that, no injuries! |
Again, I’d been saved against all odds. I realized this was my third major fall that could’ve, should’ve, would’ve ended my life if not for my life having had a divine purpose. After this fall, I thought long and hard about who would have missed me if I had died. I sadly realized that there weren’t many people that I’d invested either time or part of myself in, who I’d really contributed to, and who would really miss me when I’m gone. I had lived a selfish life, dedicated to developing myself, achieving things that were really only meaningful to me. I decided that had to change right then and there, and began serving and leading youth groups at church, teaching, working to support missionaries in the field, and spending time with people from all walks of life. I became a professor, dedicated to using engineering to improve the lives of people with disabilities, and later a biomechanical consultant to bring honest and factual analyses of injury into the courtroom. My wife and I raised three wonderful children who are leading productive lives. All of them enjoy climbing with friends – carefully! They’ve heard all my stories… |
Half Dome, Summit 1982
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