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Everybody has a story: Lesson learned on Mount Hood ski trip: Be prepared

The Columbian
Published: March 9, 2011, 12:00am

On a recent beautiful Monday, my sister and I went cross-country skiing. We skied for two hours, then stopped at the far side of a lake on Mount. Hood and took a lunch break. Fifteen minutes later, we were heading back to our car. We came to a fork in the trail. The right was the way we came, and the left would take us to our car via a branch trail. We went left.

The snow was amazing — crystal powder, sparkling like diamonds. We followed old ski tracks until they ended, then broke trail. Two hours later, we started wondering if we were going the right way.

The sun was setting pink and the trail was heading the wrong way. My sister’s cell phone was on very low battery and mine had no signal. Another 45 minutes passed, and we decided to call 911. It was almost dark — we had no light, no emergency supplies, almost no food or water, no matches. We had three hand-warmer packets, six cough drops, six carrots and part of a chocolate bar.

We reached 911 at dark. They took all of our information. My sister’s battery died and we kept skiing. The trees were huge, there was a quarter moon, a million stars, a rushing creek far below us and towering cliffs above us. We were insignificant specks in this spectacular wilderness. We spoke of how fortunate we were that there are no grizzly bears, wolves or moose here. We sang songs: John Denver, old church songs, children’s friendship songs. Then I remembered cougars: there are cougars out here! I suddenly felt great fear. I thought of my daughter, only 13 years old, growing up without her mom — I felt her sadness and how hugely it would impact who she is.

I opened a pack of hand warmers for each of us, and we put them in our mittens. They kept us from feeling hopeless.

My sister asked, “What would Dad say?” Dad would tell us to put a “white light” around us. So we did. When she asked if we could huddle against the cold, I was able to visualize the biggest, brightest light surrounding us. It was quite spiritual and gave me peace — of which I had a short supply.

I made a bargain with the universe, which I sincerely meant: Please deliver us safely and I will live my life differently!

We skied on. I decided we were heading southwest, away from the highway and deep into the Mount Hood National Forest. We had no protection from the cougars or the cold.

Then my sister announced the appearance of a telephone pole. I thought she was hallucinating. But it was truly there. We became excited with renewed energy — there must be houses nearby!

Then there was a light. It was far into the woods, about a quarter mile away. We skied to it — a driveway with a gate, and recent but not fresh tire tracks. We left our skis so they’d be spotted by any rescuers, crossed at the road and walked down the snowy trail. There were lights, but no one home. We skied on.

We spotted another light, again a distance into the woods, and our hopes rose. It was the same situation, but we found an outside water faucet and were able to fill up our empty water bottles and drink heartily. We continued on to another and then another cabin — some had old tire tracks, some didn’t; some with lights, others darkened. It got darker out as the road narrowed and the trees obscured the moonlight.

We came to a fork in this little road. Neither choice looked promising. We decided to follow the telephone lines. The road was very icy, with patches of pavement. We saw another cabin light and went for it. There was no visible driveway, so we skied on, using my useless cell phone as a flashlight. Down this long path we went, to the cabin with an inside light. We saw a telephone on the kitchen wall. My sister verbalized what we both knew: “We need to break in.”

We scoped out the best window to break, stood back, and threw in a rock the size of a cantaloupe. It was done. We lay my vest over the broken glass and hoisted each other in. It was a sweet cabin, and we felt bad making a mess and invading someone else’s space.

We called 911 and let them know we were safe. They knew our location from the phone number we were calling from. I found two ginger ales in the fridge and we relished the sweet, sparkly liquid.

A sheriff’s car showed up. He was a young guy, half our age and very gentle. He said all that mattered was that we were safe. He contacted search and rescue and the Forest Service to let them know our status. He gave us food from his personal stash, opened his warm car to us and let me call home. My family was beside themselves with worry, and shocked to hear we were lost on a different mountain in another state than I told them we would be.

It turned out that the path we chose seven hours ago was 12 miles long, and had brought us to the bottom of Mount Hood.

We felt many things at this point: adrenalin, fatigue, cold, shame for worrying family and using rescuers — and for breaking into someone’s personal space. It did turn out to be a rental cabin, and the owner was very understanding.

We learned so much. When you go out in the woods, be prepared for emergencies, even if it is just a sunny day trip. Have extra food and water, fire-building supplies, a fully charged cell phone, an emergency reflective tarp, a flashlight, a hat, dry socks and extra gloves, plus several packs of hand warmers. Tell people where you really are going; call them from the trailhead if you have a change of plans. And have a map of the area with you. You never know what might happen to you, or to a stranger you meet on the trail.

If you need to, call for help — it is better than the alternative.

Everybody Has A Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. E-mail is the best way to send materials so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver, WA 98666. Call Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.

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