Celebration of Life Day

It's somewhat belated, but January 17 has officially been declared the First Annual Celebration of Life Day by the Hein family and myself.  For those that don't know the story:

Last January I flew out to Albuquerque, NM to see Josie, one of my absolute favorite people in this world (she gets me).  She had been telling me about Sandia Mountain which you could hike about 10 miles to get to the top and rise in elevation of almost 4,000 feet, which sounded like a great idea!  The ultimate Pinnacle Mountain, of course we should do it!

Josie and I wake up and make pancakes, which we started to call griddle cakes, for breakfast and drink a Vitamin C drink for "strength and endurance."  We had a couple of griddle cakes left over that we packed with us along with trail mix and as much water as we could reasonably carry.  Then layered on the most layers I have ever worn at a single time.  I think I had five shirts on and flannel pants underneath ski pants and David's socks from winter survival training (just think COLD).  

Off we go.

We arrive at the parking lot for the tram station.  Our plan is to hike to the trail that takes you up the mountain, hike up the mountain and across the ridge to take the tram back down.  As we pull into the parking lot we stop at one of those booth things that people sit in and talked to the guy for a second.  He warns us that the mountain can be tough in the winter and that an older guy fell off the mountain a couple of weeks ago and was injured pretty badly.  We asked what should we do if we get into trouble up there.  His response, "Our father who art in heaven..."  Wow. That's intense, but we're young.  We can do this, and besides, David will be meeting up with us in a little bit.

This is when we start joking around about how we'll have to be rescued off the top of the mountain by a helicopter because this is what we do.  We joke around about serious matters.  We're not dramatic at all!

At noonish, the hike starts out, and we're doing well.  It was uneventful at first except the fact that I had dropped my scarf that Andrea just bought me from NY.  After backtracking to find it we were officially on our way to conquer this mountain.  Josie gets concerned about my physical capabilities, but we get into a groove.  We notice these interesting footprints on the way up.  Very peculiar, jagged triangular footprints.  The whole time we're trying to figure them out.

At some time around three or so David, the machine, meets up with us.  The whole way up there are patches of ice and snow, but we don't think too much about it.  We finally hit a point of definite snow and ice everywhere and there's a sign:  Trail may be impassable during winter months.  We considered it and then continued on.  We weren't too far from the top for 

what it's worth.  The trail turns into a foot wide series of snowy switchbacks with drop offs that would have paralyzed me in place (I'm terribly scared of heights) if I didn't feel the sense of urgency that the sunset was insisting on us completing the hike before it was completely dark.  Meanwhile, while we are making our way hastily up the trail, our water quickly begins to freeze in the bottles and camelback.  We hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast besides our leftover griddle cakes.  So here we are:  the sun is setting quickly, we're losing energy because we haven't really eaten anything to keep up with this activity, our water is freezing, we have to carefully take steps because the snow is so deep if you don't step in each others tracks you will fall (which I demonstrated several times)...hopefully not in the wrong direction (i.e. off the mountain), I'm starting to get altitude sick and it's really really cold.

At about 6:30 p.m. we finally reach the top of the trail.  Hooray!  We made it.  Only 1.1 miles to go and the sun has almost 

completely set.  David feels like we can make it in about 30 minutes.  Sure, let's do it.  We soon realize, after the sun has completely set, that we may be in for a little bit more than we bargained for.  The only light we had was the moon, the city of ABQ and two headlights between the three of us.  The trail across the ridge of the mountain had been completely covered in snow, so basically there was no trail.  We had to traverse the whole way around the mountain around boulders that protruded out making the trail minimal at best.  We put blind faith into any roots we could find to hold onto and packed holes in the snow with our hands and feet because there was usually no other place to put them.  Every corner we turned around the mountain we were hoping to see light from the tram station.  The only thing I could really speak was "Are you kidding me?" when we'd come around another corner and we still couldn't see it.  We even stopped at one point to try to call someone to let them know that we were up there and to be expecting us.  

We could see the city of ABQ, but it was surreal knowing that we were in trouble up there and everyone was carrying about how we do in life.  I've never felt so completely physically and emotionally drained and helpless.  I thought we were going to either die or get seriously injured that night.  All I could think about was my family and how they would think it was so stupid of me to go up there.  I just kept praying that if something did happen I just didn't want to be in pain.  This sounds dramatic, but it was a reality at the time.  

At some point it was like the tram station came out of nowhere.  We saw people walking

 around and eating dinner.  Oblivious to what we just experienced.  I believe I was mad at them for not helping us, but they didn't know.  It was just a weird state to know that I was just so thankful to be alive, and I wanted someone else to care.  It had taken us an hour and a half to make it across the top of the mountain.  As it turns out, it's suggested that you not hike on top of the mountain during the winter (the footprints were from some sort of ice shoe or crampon).  Good thing we drank the Vitamin C for breakfast!

So, here we are.  One year after the hike-of-almost-death and life is beautiful.  

Josie, I still can't believe that happened!  I remember we really didn't know what to do with ourselves but laugh because we're Sandia Survivors!  And that pizza we got afterwards was probably the most satisfying meal in my life.  Also, I think if I'm going to experience 2 degree weather ever again, then it needs to be under safer circumstances!  I love you Jo-sizzle and I miss you every day...