The Day I Took on Deer Mountain

Those who know me know I’m not exactly the athletic type. I never have been. No sports as a kid, no random adventures out in the wilderness…heck, my idea of athleticism consisted of going to the gym every now and then and getting on an elliptical for an hour or so.

When coming to AK, I knew we’d be going hiking. I don’t know what I expected from the hikes. You know the saying “ignorance is bliss”? Well, it turns out I was ignorant – simply because hiking was completely new to me…in this capacity, anyway. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I realize now I should have had a more carb-rich breakfast…and drank more water before we set out…

The mouth of the trail is about 1 mile from our apartment….half of which is an uphill climb which had my oxygen-deprived anemic self huffing and puffing before we even got there. I knew the trek up the mountain was around 3 miles, but I didn’t anticipate it being a tough 3 miles. Tara mentioned that the first mile was a 1,000 foot climb up, but perhaps I ignored that…for good reason. That first mile was rough and I was kicking my 28-year-old body for deceiving me. I also felt bad for slowing Tara down. She’s a seasoned hiker and was able to climb much faster than I could. But I was more or less able to keep up….especially since she stopped every now and then to let me catch up.

We stopped frequently on the way up to get pictures of the rain forest we were trekking through. I stopped more than Tara did…partially because I am obsessed with trying to take pretty pictures that a camera lens can’t do any justice to, and partially because, well, I was tired and needed to catch my breath.

Just over an hour into the steep trek up, we had made it to the 1000 feet lookout…with this view:

I was glad for it too….I was tired, thirsty, and hungry. Like I said, I should have planned better. Also, my legs were already beginning to ache, and I knew we had a long way to go to the top. So the trek continued and I tried to ignore my body pleading with me to stop the abuse. At about 1.75 miles up the mountain, we ran into our first bit of snow. I have to say that when I first saw it, I was excited that we had made it up so far as to even see snow (since the other climbers we encountered throughout the day didn’t quite go up so far)…I was feeling accomplished. It definitely helped me add a bit of pep to my step. My spirits had been revived despite the physical strain of the climb.

We began the trek from the mouth of the trail at just about noon; by 3:30, we had finally made it up to just near the summit – at 2.75 miles up, after hiking for a mile in the deep snow. We were probably just over 2000 feet above sea level…and about 800 feet from the summit.

After taking about 20-30 minutes to take in this view:

…We decided we were close enough to our goal – the summit, and despite the exhaustion, we needed to continue up so we could really enjoy the view from the top. As we turned to go, we ran into mountain goat tracks…and more importantly, bear paw tracks, which instilled a bit of fear in us.

Because Tara was a more experienced climber, she went ahead of me for the most of the trek, but especially in the snow so that I could step into her footsteps (though that didn’t always work because she’s about 7 inches taller than me and has a much longer stride). Needless to say, I had to make my own path through parts of it. Which is exactly what I was doing up a steep hill where there wasn’t necessarily a good trail since it was completely covered in snow. So, about 100 feet north of where we had just taken pictures at the landing, I stepped in some thin ice. My leg went all the way through up to mid-thigh. Here’s a picture of the hole I fell into:

When it first happened, I was thankful that my other leg hadn’t fallen through as well. With that in mind, I nonchalantly told Tara who was about 30 feet ahead of me that she would need to turn around and come back down. As I kneeled there, stranded, not knowing quite what to do, I rested my chin in my hand while I waited for Tara to carefully climb down to where I was. I wasn’t necessarily afraid of the situation until I saw the look of sheer concern on her face as she got closer. She extended her arm out to me which I knew I couldn’t take. She was facing downward, and I would have pulled her down with me.  I bared all of my weight on my right leg and tried to figure out how to remove my left leg from the hole. The only thought running through my head at the moment was “I hope I don’t fall deeper in.”…just then, Tara said “Be careful, you don’t want to break your leg.” That’s when the fear really set in. Because I knew I had to get out of there – and quick…there were bears around, after all.

We tried a few different ways to get me out of there, all of which failed. I don’t know how long it took for me to remove my leg from the hole…it must have been between 5 and 10 minutes – of sheer horror…only because I knew that if I continued to bare all my weight on my “steady” leg, I probably would fall deeper in. Finally I shed myself of my pack and camera, and we decided I needed to just allow myself to fall backwards onto the mountain as far as my stuck leg would afford. So I fell back and slid backwards down the mountain a bit – just trying to get my leg dislodged…which I was thankfully able to do. As I was pulling my foot out however, It got stuck and I almost broke an ankle. A little more maneuvering and I was finally free. It may have only been a few minutes, but it seemed to be the longest few minutes of my life. In retrospect, I realize had Tara not been there, I would probably have given up - and simply waited for the hypothermia to take me (by this time, my clothes were soaked through thanks to the snow) or a bear to come along and make me his first post-hibernation meal. Needless to say, I am so very grateful that Tara was there to help me stay calm and get through that …even though the panic was evident on her face.

Once I dislodged my leg, we were able to laugh about it. We even took pictures of the hole that tried to eat me. In retrospect, we also joked about how we should have gotten a picture of me stuck in the hole. In retrospect, I'm really upset we didn't...but only because we were able to laugh about the incident afterward...and we did most of the way back down the mountain.

Anyway, by the time the whole ordeal was over, Tara was scared enough to suggest we turn back and head down. But we were too close…just a few hundred feet more and we’d be there. I wasn’t going to let a little scare keep me from getting to the summit…we’d come too far. So I assured her I was able to continue up. I wanted to.

We didn’t make it up much further. About 50 feet from the accident spot, we saw the yellow trail signs turn orange – warning us of the avalanche zone. Also, we realized there wasn’t necessarily a trail we could readily follow – just a few footsteps but nothing quite concrete that would help lead our way up the last bit of the mountain. This was enough for Tara to decide we shouldn’t risk it. I was disappointed, but knew I had to trust her instinct on this one, so we turned back about a quarter mile from our destination.

On the way back down we stopped back at the landing to refuel before the long path down. As we stood there taking in the view, snapping pictures of bald eagles circling above our heads, munching on trail mix, and getting re-hydrated, we were met by the seasoned climber who passed us on the way up. He had been to the summit just 2 weeks ago when the snow was much more impacted and climbable. He stopped to chat for a moment, and told us that he had made it to the summit again today, but that he fell through the snow to his hips on the way back down. As he said this to us, Tara and I couldn’t help but be thankful that we had decided to turn back. We stood there a while longer taking our last pictures of the day. I wanted to get a few more because I would have to pack the camera away for the climb down – which, in the deep slippery snow, I knew would be quite a challenge…especially because I had developed quite a migraine by this point.

On the way down, my leg went through the snow twice more, though, not as deep this time. I also rolled my right ankle. By the third time, I had begun to just expect it…and had figured out how to be more stable on my feet. Once we got down about a mile, we were finally back out of the snow, but as the snow was melting atop the mountain, the trail was much wetter on the way down. So much so that my waterproof all-terrain hiking boots were completely soaked through…and my socks were sopping wet.

I don’t know if I slipped on a wet log or if the ankle I severely injured in gymnastics in the 8^th grade just gave out on me. I fell. Perhaps too close to the edge of the cliff to my left. As a shooting pain went through my ankle, I panicked for the second time today. Had I just broken my ankle two miles up a mountain?

Clearly, I didn’t break my ankle, but I couldn’t help but think that I really had experienced the best and the worst of it today.

The trek down the mountain was almost more painful than the climb up. My legs were aching and screaming in protest, and the continuous stepping down off of tall rocks was creating havoc on my lower back (I sound like an old man in his 80s, don't I? Really though, it was rough). We made it down in record time despite having stopped at the 1 mile point to take in the view one last time. That last mile went especially quickly. We started from the top at 3:45…we were back down by 5:40.

It wasn’t over yet though…we had the steep walk back down to flat land ahead of us. That may have just been the most painful part of the day. Again, perhaps because of the headache...or maybe the sheer exhaustion was setting in by then. At just past 6 PM, we were finally back home. The minute I collapsed onto the couch, it was as if my body just went into shock over what I had put it through today. My head was pounding, every muscle in my body (even the ones I didn’t know I had) was aching, and I had developed a full-fledged fever. I laid there comatose for a half-hour before forcing myself up to get some carbs in me…Whether it was sheer exhaustion or gripping hunger, I don’t know, but it was hard to eat…though I knew I had to because I needed to get some medicine in me. After all, treacherous adventure or not, I have to be at work at 8 AM. A long shower did me some good…thought I am still more exhausted than I think I have ever been.

Deer Mountain tried and tested me today. It challenged me physically as well as emotionally. My endurance was tested as well as my patience. I knew I wanted to be adventurous on my trips around the country this year. I wanted to go zip-lining and sky diving…but never did I think I would climb to the top of a snow-covered mountain peak. I am proud of what I accomplished today…and so very thankful to have made it to the top…and back down. I am thankful to have seen the world in all its glory from atop that mountain. I am thankful for my health...and the fact that I am not as out of shape as I initially thought...I am thankful for my faithful hiking boots. And I am thankful for Tara – who, along with the mountain, gave me a reason to push my own limits today….though, I doubt she wants me to join her on her next hiking expedition (which, she will have to get over, because I am going whether she likes it or not)...it’s her fault though, for picking the hardest hike in all of Ketchikan for my first trek. I’m glad she did though. Maybe the next few won’t be nearly as hard. Until then I plan to take the rest of the week to rest my poor spent muscles. I am sure I will be limping into work tomorrow and don’t anticipate being able to get out of my chair once I collapse into it at 8 AM. But I am thankful to be in Alaska…and the adventure it afforded me today. I am thankful to be alive…and looking forward to our next expedition. 

If you read the blog yesterday, or saw my pictures, this is the mountain I said we were going to climb today:

I can't believe I was on that snowcap today....and this close to the top...the peak of the mountain:

If we had made it all the way to the top, we would have experienced the spectacular view I am sure this guy was enjoying:

PS: It was weird to be climbing through a rain forest one moment and a few feet of snow the next.

PPS: I love Ketchikan. I'm not going to want to leave. Just under four short weeks left.