Ruth Mountain 2010

Over the past weekend, I had the pleasure to escort Benni Sack up Ruth Mountain in the North Cascades. Benni has a special place in my heart, as she has been wonderfully sweet to me and my family during the tragedies over the last few years. Above you see a photo of Benni speaking at Emma’s memorial service 2 years ago while she was pregnant with her beautiful twin girls. She wanted to give more, so she asked me how, and I said why don’t you climb with us. And she did. Marvelously. She also raised close to $1500 and helped promote the Climb For Kids cause within our community. I was absolutely honored to take her up the mountain this past weekend.

I asked Benni if she could write a blog post about her experience. Here it is.

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My name is Benni, and I am a friend of Matt and Ellen’s.  I’m also a twin mom, and specifically an identical twin mom.  When Emma passed on my girls had just been born, and we felt the loss for Emma dearly because we understood that our situation was in essence no different from the Kowalczyk family. A few cells in a placenta changed their fate from ours, and we knew that what we experienced could have been changed dramatically by the same set of circumstances that Matt and Ellen faced.

This year, when Matt posted the list of climbs for 2010 to benefit Climb For Kids, something inside of me wanted to give in a very physical way to this organization.  I had no idea how I would come up with the donations.  I had hiked, but had no climbing or mountaineering experience at all, almost no equipment to speak of, but I knew it was important for me to do this climb.  Without even really thinking about it, I told Matt that I would make the beginner climb, Ruth Mountain, on June 13th, 2010.  Then, I panicked.  DID I JUST VOLUNTEER TO CLIMB A FRICKING MOUNTAIN!?!?  But, I never shrank away from doing it.  I didn’t make it to my $3000 donation goal, but we made almost half of that money, enough to send 2 families for treatment, and it was enough.  Enough to do the climb.

When the week before the climb came, Matt contacted me.  He asked if I still wanted to do it.  That was my chance to back out!  No one else was going – just me and Matt.  But, I didn’t.  To my own surprise I didn’t back out.  I told him I would go.  I made arrangements with my husband to watch the girls.  I was going.  Now I had to get my climbing gear together and get myself mentally prepared to go.

Physically, I had been preparing, going to the gym and doing woodland all terrain walks while pushing the girls in the stroller, but I’m definitely not at fighting weight.  I’m a twin mom, and I have the mom body to go with it.  When I left for that climb I was at least 30 pounds overweight for my height.  At LEAST.  I am a very strong person but very rarely in my adult life have I been a small person.  I knew for a fact that this climb was going to test my metal  very seriously, but I knew that somehow I could commit to one step at a time and just do my best.  It was better than committing to nothing, which in the past would have been my normal thing to do.  I was committed.

The day came for us to go make base camp at Hannegan Pass, and I was nervous, excited, and as ready as I was going to be.  I had to rent boots and crampons, I had borrowed ski poles (which turned out to be too long for what we needed – Matt loaned me his), and all the other gear I pretty much had.  It wasn’t to a “t”, but what I had would definitely support the climb.  I remember being really nervous that Matt would laugh at my gear or I’d be in trouble for getting the wrong thing, but he wasn’t like that at all.  He was totally supportive and was confident that I could make it.

Our drive there was almost uneventful, really.  We left Seattle at 5:00 p.m. and stopped in Mt Vernon for Mexican food.  We got back on the road in Mt Vernon, and my GPS gave us a route that took us off the freeway and had us taking state highways to Glacier, which is the closest town to the trail head.  We decided to take the state highway route.  It wasn’t until we were about 28 miles off course that we realized that we were NOT where we needed to be.  We had to turn around and go back.  So, it was dark when we got to the trail head, which actually turned out to be no big deal because we pitched our tent under the shelter and went straight to bed.  The climb would commence at 6AM the next morning. Matt didn’t sleep very well.  Oddly I slept OK, even though my back and neck are often uncomfortable in my bed at home and I hate sleeping in the cold.

We got up about 5:20 the next morning and got our gear together to make the trip.  We had layers and waterproof shells, sunscreen, sunglasses, chap stick, water, food, and ourselves.  Well, crampons and boots as well.  I brought 2 cameras, both of which seem to have malfunctioned (bummer), but I had intended to completely document the climb.  Good thing I have my memory! (Matt’s Note: I was able to post some photos from my camera. You can find them up on Flickr – just click the link)

We set off from the parking lot on the trail.  The early part of the trail consists of wooded areas, stream crossings, and glacier slide areas, marked by tree falls sometimes, other times by snow and rocks.  I managed my first fall in the first 3 hours of the trek by sliding off a snowy trail.  Not long after that we put our crampons on, which was a WAY new experience for me.  When you are on non-snowy ground, they are not delicate instruments.  But on snow, they turn you into what Matt calls “Spiderman,” but they do not make it less strenuous to climb.  Not.

After the first 4 hours is where the real fun began.  First, we needed to start two serious grade vertical ascents to make it to the Hannegan Pass camping area and Pass.  That was Matt’s first goal – get to the Pass.  Man – by that time I was already feeling really tired and stressed.  But I listened to my inner voice and got feedback from Matt, and I decided that I could make it to the Pass and then reassess what I could do.  The climb was on – 300 vertical feet in snow, digging your foot in for each and every step up very steep terrain that was becoming more and more sloppy by the moment in the sun.  Matt could have paced me three of four times if we had been on a circular track.  But I had, after all, committed to one step at a time.  So, I just plugged away, one step at a time, going through waves of extreme fatigue and rejuvenating adrenaline, just moving forward at the pace that I could handle.  Which was slow.  I know it was really slow.  But I kept going.  I kept thinking through the pain about who this climb was for and how those babies and families feel and how I could help by keeping my commitment to this climb.  I thought about lots of things that day.

After much effort and three of the biggest hills I’ve ever seen and a couple of rest stops, I made it to the Pass.  This is where we sat down, had our first small meal, and decided if I could continue.  By then it was 11:30 am.  Still early.  the next goal was to make it to the Saddle @ 5696 foot elevation, from which you could see three peaks and an absolutely breathtaking view of the entire Cascades.  Mind you, I had not been sure that I would even be able to make it to the Pass.  But, I had made it.  And now we had more time to go on to the next goal if I wanted to.  I’d also learned some mountaineering skills to get me to the next goal.  Matt said the next part would be “easier.”  I grin when I think about that.  In hindsight the next part was not really easier, but we decided to do it.  We had time and we both felt that I had it in me to go on.  We lathered up with sunscreen, put on our glasses and packed up to leave the Pass and continue on.  The first part of the trip to the saddle was a much more gentle slope than the slope to the Pass had been, but man, I was tired.  Each step that went “up” from that moment on was propelled by me willing my feet to continue to move.  And it was that will alone that kept me going.  This was not a “hard hike.” I was climbing a mountain.  Really.  We made it over the first gentle slope and I got the first look at my two-part nemesis – the first part was a 500 ft gain over less than a 1/4 mile.  After all the climbing I just did, I though, “Yeah – right.  THAT’S TOTALLY HAPPENING- NOT!!!!”  But Matt said at the top was our next goal.  And we should try.  I looked inside, and I decided that I would feel really proud of myself if I made it to the saddle.  I decided that we should go.  THAT was a slow climb.  At one point I fell into a sink hole near a fallen tree where the snow was melting and panicked.  I had one leg in the hole and one leg in front of me with no strength left and no leverage.  But Matt watched as I got my leg behind me and used my hands and my iceaxe to push myself up.  I won’t lie – I was scared after that.  But I felt that if I could rescue myself from that tough spot then I could make it.  When we got to the top of the 500 foot incline, we hiked around the side of a hill through knee-high melting snow (ugh – double ugh), and up another couple hundred-foot incline to the saddle.  By that point my hips were hurting so bad, two of my toes were threatening to strike and each step was yuck yuck yuck!  But Matt had the Advil in his pack at the top, and if I wanted it, I had to climb to the saddle.  And I did it.  I made it to the saddle.  I have no idea how I made it.  We sat at the top together and looked out over nearly everything God has ever made and then I knew that I could be proud of myself.  That this wasn’t easy.  That not everyone could do what I did.  And I did it.  And then I could be very proud of myself. We drank some Red Bulls and looked.  We could see another team making the ascent to Ruth.  An ascent that I could not make that day, because I just wasn’t ready yet.  But, I knew that what I had done was special, and that it was OK.

We started down.  Somehow that seems like it would be easier.  And in some ways it was.  BUT, at the top of that 500 foot decline I knew I was in trouble.  About 1/4 of the way down, my feet, which were frickin’ jello at this point, slipped out from underneath me and I “accidentally” learned how to glissade.  A long way.  And I left my iceaxe and hat at the top where I fell.  I looked up at them and I thought, well, I guess that’s where they are staying because I cannot possibly go back up to get them. I started to cry.  Matt said he would go get them.  The thought of him having to go get them made me feel so ashamed.  I started to say how sorry I was over and over again through the tears.  Matt came up to me and said, “You don’t have to say you’re sorry anymore.  I don’t mind getting them.”  And it was at that moment that I realized that I am worthy of compassion.  That is was an accident and I didn’t have to feel bad that it happened.  I sat and ate some gummy bears and cried a little more while Matt went and got the stuff.  He says I did him a favor because he got to glissade back down, too, but I know that was tough, and I am so grateful for his kindness.

The rest of the trip honestly was cake after that, UNTIL, we got to the last third of the trip.  That was lonngggggg – for both of us.  By the time we were close to the car I was so banged up that I looked and walked like TIMMY from South Park, hobbling on ski poles and wincing.  I had the WRONG boots – hard plastic that were unforgiving as heck.  Not good.  I would get crampon-compatible hiking boots for next time. We did make it back to the car, and after a pit stop in Bellingham for some well-deserved Dairy Queen (I bought for Matt as payment for his retrieval mission), I was home.  Home with incredibly chapped thighs, sore muscles and a sense that what I did was a big deal.  I know it was a big deal to the kids and families that I helped.

I want to thank Matt for the opportunity to do this and for his excellent guidance.  We did it.  Thanks.