White Helmet Beacon

I'm back.

I'm back from one of the scariest, most miserable experiences of this summer and I'm just hoping that I can look back and laugh at it all pretty soon.

It all started around noon Sunday at the BCO where I met John to grab a radio, drop off my car/keys, and pick up our permit. As usual, I arrived about fifteen minutes early so I checked the weather and started to fill out as much of our backcountry travel plan as I could with the information I had. Looking out the window, Longs Peak was completely covered in the clouds and all my coworkers who were in the office were questioning whether or not we were going to still attempt the climb. I said, "Of course!" and continued getting paperwork together. John had warned me the day before that a lady named Faith was going to be joining us and I didn't really have a problem with that because he made it seem like it was a good idea. She showed up at the same time John pulled into the parking lot and we printed the permits and headed out without being too concerned about the weather. When we got to the trailhead, we packed up, took a group picture, and started off down the trail.

The thunder began almost immediately after we got on the trail.

I knew we were moving along at a slow speed because Faith seemed to be hiking at a slower pace, but by the time we reached the 'Goblin's Forest' backcountry campsite so John and I could inspect, we had only traveled a mile and a quarter and an hour had already passed. After John and I checked on the six sites and heard the thunder getting louder and closer together, we met Faith back at the trail and evaluated what we wanted to do. We decided to keep going at that point while keeping an eye on the weather literally all around us.

By the time we reached Granite Pass (the last two miles where you are THE TALLEST thing around aka the worst place to be in a storm), I was pretty wet from the rain and hiking along with Faith while John was way up ahead of us. Now don't get me wrong--I was having fun learning about the flora from her and learned tons of new flowers--I just wasn't prepared physically or mentally for hiking sooooooooo slooooooooow. When we reached the Granite Pass saddle, I could see another storm rising in the distance towards us and told Faith that we had about half an hour to cover the last 1.9 miles before that thing would hit us in the worst place to possibly be. She said she understood and then took ANOTHER break. By the time my predicted half hour passed, the storm hit and we began to soak. She could see my discomfort and suggested I go ahead. At this point, I was sure John was already at the campsite and had the tent set up, and I didn't want to be stuck in this area for much longer. Unfortunately, my conscience also didn't want to leave Faith alone out in that area because she wouldn't have been able to move quickly if the lightning started striking closer by. I stuck with her a little longer until the rain subsided a tiny bit and then she offered again for me to speed up. This time, I took her up on the offer since I was carrying the water pump and stove. That way, I could start filtering water and we could get the stove going to cook dinner.

I headed up that last mile and a half and the tears of frustration immediately began falling down my face. If you know me, you know that it takes a lot for me to get that upset, and this was the first time all summer that I have been driven to that extent. By the time I reached the Boulderfield where John had set up the tent, he just looked at me and asked what was wrong. I told him I was frustrated and just needed a little space and I would be fine. He headed down the trail to meet Faith and carry her pack the rest of the way up for her and I calmed down a little. I just couldn't believe how it could POSSIBLY take eight HOURS to hike six miles. John and I had been planning on three hours--four max due to his ankle injury earlier this summer.

I grabbed the filter and empty platypus bladders to fill up with water down by the hitch-rack and met a couple guys about my age from Ohio. We talked for a bit and filtered the water before I headed back to the site so we could get into dinner action. The sunset was gorgeous, as was to be expected, but we didn't make it up to the top of Storm Peak to see it. After dinner, we got our daypacks together for the morning and then headed to the tent to crash. John and I decided that the sunrise climb wouldn't work also because of the slow speed that had been set that day, so that already took out two of the three summits I was looking forward to. We decided on a 5:30am wake-up alarm and dozed off to a restless night of shivering with intermittent sleep.

5:30am rolled around and we made breakfast and headed up the rest of the boulderfield to the keyhole at 6:00am. John reached the keyhole first, with me right on his tail. Faith on the other hand was still halfway between where we were and the camp (which was only half a mile, if that!!). I looked over the other side of the keyhole into a sea of clouds that were heading up in our direction. I sat on a rock and just soaked in the view of 13,200' above sea level. By the time Faith reached us, I had come to the decision that I was not going to continue to the top. John tried to convince me otherwise, but I knew that I was going to be miserable the entire way up due to the slow speed and frustrations from the day before. Also, I didn't want to be stuck in the storms that were definitely heading our way and if I was going to be conquering my fear of heights, I wanted to get across some of those exposed areas quickly, rather than waiting longer for everyone to catch up. John told me he respected my decision and I bid them farewell as they continued on.

Rather than heading back to camp, I climbed across the boulders to another saddle (between the keyhole and Storm Peak) for another view and then began the climb back towards the tent. When I reached the tent, I dove back into my sleeping bag to get some more rest since I knew I had some time to kill before they made it back down.

I woke up to the sound of hail bouncing off the tent.

I turned my radio on to try and intercept the time since I didn't have a watch with me, and used that as my background entertainment--listening to elk jams and speeding tickets--while I finished reading Into the Wild, which I was smart enough to remember to pack. Five hours had passed from what was supposed to be a four-hour-max trip to the top and back down, and they were still not in sight. By this point, I had pulled my thermarest out from the tent and was sitting on it outside, leaning against a rock, talking with hikers setting up their own camps or just walking by.

As I looked around me, the sky looked like a scene from Harry Potter. To my left, I watched the dark, "dementor" clouds blowing towards me on the strong winds. To my right, the white clouds were doing the same thing--rushing towards the duel that was about to take place above me. At this point, I had just about had it. As the second dose of hail for the day began to pelt my arms, I dove back into the tent and began to pack my bag back up. When the hail turned into a sprinkle, I came back up and looked up towards the keyhole in hopes of seeing a yellow jacket, meaning John's return.


I saw one, and waited for it to reach me. Unfortunately, that wasn't him. Fortunately though the next yellow coat was his, so I waited for him to climb down. He had left Faith again at the keyhole, and his first words to me were, "You made the right choice." He went on to say that he couldn't believe I had waited the six+ hours for them return and he was expecting me to be gone by that point. I confessed that I was about to leave, but didn't want to leave him with the weight of his stove and pots that I had carried up. He said it was fine and that they needed it for Faith's lunch, but for me to go ahead and leave.

He didn't need to tell me twice.

I began the hike down the six miles, where I was going to be above treeline for the first four and a half, with a careful eye on the weather. The storms were moving in from every direction and I could hear thunder starting up all around me. By the time I reached the bottom foot of the boulderfield, the rain was starting and I was in the most exposed area of the hike. The thunder got to the point where it didn't stop and I started getting worried. There was only one person I could see anywhere around me, and when you are above treeline, you can see a far distance! He was a climber and had a white helmet hanging off his pack about half a mile to a mile ahead of me. That white, bouncing object was all I needed and I took off running.

I kept him in my eyesight for a while, and whenever he would go around a corner, I would just run faster because I didn't want to lose sight of a human if the lighting (which WAS striking) hit anywhere near me. I caught up with him after three miles had passed, and he let me go around him. After I passed, he said, "Hey, you are setting a pretty good pace! If you keep that up, I'll stay with you." "Thanks!" I replied, "this thunder is intimidating and I will feel much better with someone else around." So off Shamus (I found out his name later) and I went.

I was bounding over the tundra and jumping down boulders along the way, full 35+ pound pack on, and the thing running through my head was that the group I went to China with earlier this year would have been making fun of me and calling me a gazelle again. (At least that kept my spirits up!) Shamus and I talked a bit and I learned he had grown up in Estes and was visiting his family here now. He said how pleased he was to see that the park service was hiring rangers as in shape as myself, but that I should look into getting trekking poles to save my knees on some of this downhill stuff I was sprinting/jumping. He laughed at how touronish that sounded and I told him how happy that made me that he used the word touron!

When we reached the tundra, Shamus stopped to eat his food and I bid him farewell as I continued my run down the mountain. I forgot to mention that in the storm, I never put a jacket on because I didn't want to stop and become vulnerable. Needless to say, my tanktop didn't cut it so both my pack and myself were COMPLETELY soaked through. My camera had been in my pocket the whole time and I was worried about how waterlogged that got, but couldn't check because my hands were wet with nothing to dry them on.

After passing more people and the llamas who were out with the llama ranger looking for missing people, I made it to the trailhead and called out of service over the radio. When I heard what time it was, I was shocked that I made it down the six miles in just an hour and twenty minutes with that huge pack on my back!! That's when I realized John had driven me there and Kendall was still at work and couldn't come to get me.

I hung around the ranger station for a little while and helped successfully track down four of the five missing people. After about twenty minutes had passed, I saw a familiar face--Brian Hayes, RMNP LE Ranger, was coming down the trail. He had been climbing one of the rope routes on Longs with his brother-in-law on his day off, and they had room in the car to get me back to the BCO where Roxanne (my car) was waiting for me. I was so grateful and apologized for my wet clothes and pack in the car.

I got back to the BCO and reported on how the trip had gone before heading back home to take a hot shower in hopes of warming up before last night's backpacking trip with Kendall. (Be prepared for the Megan/Kendall saga...coming soon!) Hope seemed to be the word of the day yetserday though--I had never been so scared as far as I can remember as I was in that storm. The white helmet up ahead gave me hope the whole way through the intense, open areas, and I couldn't have asked for anything better or a nicer man to get me through the afternoon.