Just Before Cell Phones

Before cell phones, an emergency at the Whitney base camp was a huge deal.

Just Before Cell Phones

Nell, Pete, Molly and Jane had planned to climb Mt. Whitney. This was not a technical climb requiring ropes and carabiners, but a hard, steep hike up a well maintained trail to the summit. And although it was only eleven miles to the summit, the trail gained 6,200 feet over this distance. And this difficult hike was made more difficult by the fact that all four climbers lived in Santa Barbara, and all within 500 yards of the beach. None were acclimated to high altitudes, a serious matter on a hike that started at 8,400 feet and ended at 14, 505 feet.

There were camps along the way to allow the weekend warriors from the coast to acclimate to the altitude. A lovely place called Outpost Camp and many semi-legal spots by the river. But the four considered themselves experienced hikers and felt these half way camps to be for weenies. Their plan was to ascend six miles and 3,600 feet to Trail Camp at 12,000 feet, well above the treeline. They would then leave most of their gear there and make the final five mile, 2000 foot ascent to the summit the next morning.

But right now they were somewhere in the desert along Highway 395. They really weren't sure where. They hand planned to make it to the Lone Pine Campground along the Whitney Portal Road before dark and sleep there. But their endless screwing around that Friday night after work gave them such a late start that at 2:00 AM they finally just pulled off into a pull out, walked out into the desert and threw down ground cloths and sleeping bags. They then went to sleep, planning to finish trip the next morning.

Nell awoke first. It was pitch black, the bright moon that had accompanied them to the camp had set. The air was cool and moist and it felt like it was just before dawn, although Nell had no idea what time it was. Molly was curled up in her sleeping bag next to her and Nell shook her awake.

“Listen”, hissed Nell to the half awake Molly.

“I don't hear anything”, Molly replied, feeling that her belief that Nell was a bit touched was being confirmed.

But there was something there. Molly propped her head up on could now clearly hear a large animal breathing. Breathing calmly, but not too far away. And then there were very heavy footsteps. Not loud, but perhaps a slight vibration in the ground conveyed that something with some real mass was walking out there. Then more breathing and more walking.

Both Molly and Nell sat up. The sounds were coming from several directions. And one source seemed to be between the group and the car. But in the black night they were a little uncertain of exactly where the car was. Molly didn't think she could point to it.

Molly shook Jane awake.

“Shhhhh”, Molly said. “There's something out there.”

Jane sat up and listened.

“There is”, she replied in a hushed tone. “What is it?”

“We don't know”, hissed Nell.

“Wake Pete up”, whispered Molly.

Jane reached over and shook Pete. He didn't wake, but instead made a loud noise like, “Snerk!”.

He then rolled over on his back and began snoring loudly.

Nell leaned across Molly and Jane's sleeping bags and began punching Pete's arm in time with the whispered words, “Pete … shut … up, Pete … shut … up”.

In response, Pete rolled over onto his stomach and stopped snoring.

“Forget him”, hissed Molly.

“They're not coming any closer”, whispered Nell. “I don't think so.”

“Yeah”, Molly whispered back.

“What!” Said Pete in a very loud voice. He then resumed his rhythmic breathing.

“Anybody got a flashlight?” Jane asked.

“No”, said both Molly and Nell.

Nobody had thought to bring a flashlight because of the bright moon. They could do nothing but sit, listen and pray for dawn. Molly consoled herself by thinking that, because of Pete, whatever was out there knew their position and hadn't attacked. And besides, the logical part of her said there were no large, dangerous animals that lived way out in the desert like this anyway. And then her imagination countered with images of lost, hungry bears that had come down from the Sierras. And the heavy breathing continued.

The East lightened and a few minutes later, by straining their eyes in the lessening darkness, the could see that they were surrounded by a herd of wild donkeys. All facing inward towards the campers. The women stood and began collecting their gear. Nell kicked Pete to get him awake. And in a few minutes they were on their way.

They found they weren't that far away from the trail head and had time to get coffee at the portal store while Pete picked up their permits. They passed the portal campground and were glad they stayed in the desert. It was packed. Likewise the parking area at the trial head. There were people sleeping between the parked cars. They finally found a parking place and began checking over their gear. They were then on the trail.

It was a lovely hike up Lone Pine Creek. Huge granite formations could be seen. A much different type of forest from Los Padres behind Santa Barbara, or Big Sur, the places where the group normally hiked. Every type of habitat on the planet save jungle would be encountered on the way up. Pine forest, alpine meadows, grasslands, tundra and then arctic.

But it was the hardest hike that any of them had ever encountered. Pete had been here before and was aware that it was the altitude that made it so hard to pick up your foot and put it in front of the other, but this wasn't as clear to the rest. They simply felt exhausted, and put their heads down and bulled forward. After the first couple of miles, they were no longer enjoying the lovely scenery, they were just trying to keep moving.

They stopped for lunch at the three mile mark. The knowledge that they were only half way to Trail Camp, their ultimate destination, gave Molly the urge to throw in the towel and head back down. She could sleep in the parking lot until the rest got back. Only the realization that she would never live this down kept her going.

As they pushed on. Molly thought of a Zen story where a Zen master had crossed the Himalayas in the winter. When asked how he had done this, he replied that he had just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Molly would have found this inspiring except she was too exhausted to be inspired.

Summer turned to fall which turned to winter as they climbed higher towards Trail Camp.

At dusk they pushed through a large rock formation, almost a gate, into the Trail Camp area. It was a spectacular place. A large flat field of boulders with the pinnacles of the Mount Muir to Mount Whitney ridge towering above them. The area was crowded, but not overly so. A fierce cold wind was blowing, but they were too exhausted to set up the tent. That could come later. They sat in the lee of a large boulder while Pete got his Primas stove going. Water was heated and they all had a hot cup of ramen soup. They could feel the heat of the cup of soup through their gloves. It was dark and very cold by the time they finished.

Nell produced a plastic pint bottle of whiskey and this was passed around. When finished, their pain had been numbed enough to get the tent up. There really was not flat spot. The area was tiled with large flat rocks with big boulders poking through. They positioned their tent the best they could in the lee of their boulder and crawled inside, pulling their packs after them. A small, battery powered lantern was hung from the top of the dome.

In the dim light Molly was horrified to find her Insolite pad had dropped off her pack somewhere along the trail. This is what insulated her from the freezing ground while sleeping. Her down bag was no protection. The crushed down below her body was no better insulation than a bed sheet.

“My Insolite is gone”, Molly said.

“Gone?” Asked Pete.

“Yeah, it must have fallen off my pack.”

“Well you should have tied it tighter”, said Pete, unhelpfully.

“F**k you Pete”, said Nell. “It happens.”

“Maybe I can turn mine sideways and we can share it”, suggested Jane.

“Yeah, that might work”, Molly answered.

It didn't really work as only the shoulder to elbow was insulated from the ground this way. And both were only half on the pad. The best solution they could find was to share Jane's square bottom bag while using Molly's folded mummy bag to insulate their lower bodies. Down jackets from the others were folded on either side of the pad. This didn't work that well, but it was better than the freezing ground. Molly was able to sleep for a couple of hours this way. The freezing wind that had been howling around then tent died.

Nell shook Molly awake.

“Wild animals?” Molly asked in the darkness of the tent. Jane awoke too, they had been holding each other for warmth.

“No, someone yelled 'Help'”, Nell said. “Way off in the distance.”

They listened and heard nothing. Without the howling wind the mountain was deathly quiet. And then it came, a faint, “Help”. Not loud, but it was clear that the person was shouting at the top of the lungs.

They shook Pete awake and this time they didn't fool around.

“Someone needs help out there”, Nell said.

Pete listened, and after a long pause they again heard the faint cry for help. Pete arose and grabbed his down jacket from under Molly and exited the tent. Nell grabbed hers from under Jane and followed. Just as they got outside the flap, they heard the shout again.

“Heyyy!”, yelled Pete. Then Pete and Nell yelled together, “Heyyy!”.

The faint cry for help came back immediately.

“It's over there”, said a new voice outside the tent. It counted one, two, three, and then everyone, including Jane and Molly screamed, “Heyyy!”.

Jane an Molly got their jackets on and exited the tent. Other climbers were arriving, drawn to the shouts. They then heard a faint whistle blow. They counted one, two, three and shouted, “Whistle!”, as loudly as they could. The whistle blew back.

A quick meeting was held. Topo maps were studied and the various climber were dispatched to various areas of the boulder field at the base. It was assumed that the person in distress had fallen so the base of the pinnacles would be searched. And that was where the voice seemed to be coming from.

Molly's party only had one light, so Pete and Nell would search first. When cold and fatigue got to them, Molly and Jane would go out.

Molly and Jane went back into the tent and slept luxuriously for another hour on top of Pete and Nell's Insolite and sleeping bags.

Then Pete burst through the tent flap and woke them with a shout of, “We need the sleeping bags. Get out of bed.”

“What?” Said Jane.

“We found the guy. He fell off the switchbacks and broke his hip and God know what else. He's been laying out there in just a sweatshirt for hours. We need the bags to cover him up.”

“Oh my God”, said Jane, jumping up and trying to get the bags together.

“Lay them all out on top of each other. Put the Insolite in between.” Molly said. “You can get it all under one arm that way.”

As they worked, Jane asked, “How bad is he?”

“He's freezing to death”, said Pete. “He's not making any sense anymore. We need to get him warmed up.”

With this, Pete left the tent with the sleeping bags. By the time Molly and Jane got their coats and gloves on he was gone. They waited in the tent, this time not comfortably.

Pete arrived at the scene of the fallen climber with the bags and Insolite. Two other parties arrived with the same. Fortunately, the injured guy was pretty much flat on his back. Four people lifted his left side as evenly as they could and a triple layer of Insolite was slid under that side. The same was done with the right. Then ten down sleeping bags were unzipped and piled on top of him.

Before the guy lost it from the cold, he had explained that he had been on top with a large group of other climbers. He'd been having fun talking to them and hadn't paid attention to the time. Way too late he had decided to make his way back down. There was a warming hut on top and the other climbers had advised him to hole up there until morning. None had a coat to give him, but they did have scarves and stadium blankets and such that would have kept him alive until dawn. After a very miserable night.

He had refused and made his way down as quickly as possible as the sun set. Shortly after dark, somewhere in the switchbacks down from Trail Crest, he had stumbled in the dark and gone over the edge. He said for the first thirty seconds or so he wasn't even worried. He was skidding down at about fifty miles per hour on his butt thinking about what a great story this would be. The trail cut out or the side of the mountain then switched back directly into his path. He hit it and began to windmill. That's the last he remembered until he woke up freezing on the boulder field and screaming for help.

He had a whistle on a lanyard around his neck and his left arm still worked well enough to get it into his mouth, which probably saved him from freezing to death. He had been able to guide the searchers in before his strength failed.

Shivering in the tent, Molly said: “Someone has to go down for help. I guess that should be us, we're the most rested.”

“Better than sitting here freezing to death”, Jane replied.

The moon was still up but setting fast. The two followed the voices across the boulder field to where the injured climber lay.

“Can someone give us a light? We're going down for help.” Molly said to the group.

Molly got no argument. All of the people present had climbed from the trail head that day and hadn't slept yet. They were all exhausted and the six mile hike back down in the dark sounded horrible.

“We've got one in our tent”, said one of the guys. “Follow me, we'll get it.”

With the light, Molly and Jane returned to their tent and took their water bottles and a half pint of brandy. They left the rest of their gear after removing the pot from their packs. They then set out through the huge stone gate at the entry of trail camp and started down the mountain.

They were sore and tired, but the steep trail was almost all downhill and they made good time. Almost jogging down the trail, landing with a heavy thud with each step. A mistake, they would later learn. After half an hour, their hats and gloves came off. After an hour their coats were unzipped.

It happened to Molly shortly after the halfway point. A stress fracture in her right knee. The day's stress had just been too much and a hairline fracture developed at the top end of her right tibia. At first she could ignore the pain, but it rapidly grew in intensity until all she could manage was a clumsy limp.

“You might have to go on alone”, Molly said. “My knee is really bad and I'll slow us up too much.”

“My knees hurt too”, Jane replied. “Let's stick together and just slow down. We're almost there.”

Molly found a stick to use for a cane, but she was still extremely slow. Taking over two hours to cover the last half of the trip as opposed to one hour for the first. And the pain was becoming extreme. She drank some of the brandy and this helped.

“I forgot to get the f*****g car keys from Pete”, said Molly as she hobbled along.

“Oh, no!”

“God I hope there's someone in that parking lot or we'll have five more miles to go at the bottom to get to the ranger station.”

Molly didn't know that Whitney was so crowded that climbers set out everyday. Permits were staggered and weekdays were no different from weekends. The parking lot was always crowded and as Molly and Jane left the trail they were gratified to see people sleeping between cars, just as on the morning of their arrival.

They awoke the first group they came to and related the story of the fallen climber. In five minutes they were on the road to the ranger station. Molly range the door bell and beat on the door.

“Yes, what is it?” Said a voice from inside.

“Somebody fell off the switch backs and he needs help”, Molly replied.

“Is he hurt?”

“Yes, he's in bad shape.”

“Just a minute”, said the voice.

The door opened to reveal a guy in khaki ranger pants, a white t-shirt and white socks.

“OK, what happened?”, he asked.

Molly and Jane related what they knew. The guy immediately got on the radio behind the counter and requested a medical team with a stretcher.

The guy who drove them in said, “Wow, bad stuff”.

“The medical guys should be here in about 20 minutes. They'll stop here before going up. You two should stick around in case they have any questions.” Said the ranger.

Molly nodded. Jane and her had no place to go anyway. The medical team, a group of five guys, pulled up in a fire engine about fifteen minutes later. And and they did ask Molly and Jane some questions, mostly about where to find the guy. They then set out.

They were in great shape, accustomed to the altitude and they had been up the Whitney trail more times than they could count. They arrived at the stone gate to Trail Camp in about two hours and twenty minutes. They shouted “Medics” and the people surrounding the downed climber guided them in with their flashlights.

The sleeping bags were removed and the medic in charge examined the climber in a cone of flashlight beams.

“We're not carrying this guy down”, he finally said. “Get an IV going and give him something for the pain. We'll bring in the Huey at dawn.”

At this moment, Molly and Jane were sleeping sitting upright in chairs in the ranger station reception area.

The Huey came when the sun was high enough to give good light to the landing area. One of the medical team guided it in with a smoke bomb in each hand held high over his head. The landing was amazing, the rotors only yards from some of the large rocks. The medics were waiting with the guy on the stretcher and they pushed him in the side door.

“Can we put his pack in there?” Someone asked.

“Yeah”, said the pilot out the window. “But hurry, I'm out of gas.”

Nell and Pete ran for Jane and Molly's packs and gave them to the guy with the smoke bombs. He loaded them along with the injured climber's pack and the Huey roared off back down the mountain.

The rangers delivered Jane and Molly's packs about 9:00 AM and then drove them back to Pete's car. Molly couldn't really walk at this point. The drank the last of the brandy, spread their sleeping bags and slept in the sun. Nell and Pete came down about 1:00. They loaded the car, had lunch and a few beers at a place in Lone Pine and then headed home.

The stress fracture crippled Molly for about eight weeks. She found she could get around Santa Barbara without looking like a freak by walking her bicycles and leaning on it. They never learned what happened to the fallen climber.

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[Vivian Fisk]

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