My Decision to Quit
Sunday, May 21, 2017 was a pivotal day. I was on Pete's (the guide) rope slogging back up to 14,000 feet. I told him I could not do his pace and pulled him back off the rest of the team. He said if I cannot keep the pace I probably cannot make a summit bid. I agreed and clanked ice axes with him.
After dinner I spoke to the guides privately and told them I was done. I can see how steep the approach to camp 17,000' is, how my heels are not getting better, and there is no way I'm capable. I'm also hating the cold and I don't think I have proper clothing to make it to 17,000 feet overnight let alone a summit bid. They understood. I became emotional when I agreed to tell the rest of the team at breakfast the next day.
That night I spent 10 hours in the tent with my two mates tossing and turning and gasping for what little thin air there was. It was a scary and annoying night with little sleep. Not unlike what I experienced on Aconcagua. Freezing cold. Frost inside everywhere. I used my pee bottle twice.
Monday, May 22, 2017. At breakfast I told the team I was dropping out. It was emotional. I explained about the cold and my clothing and my injuries. I told them I did not feel competent with all the technical gear and I may have even mentioned my age although that was the least of my problems. I said I had nothing more to prove. I was at peace with my decision. Frankly, I felt relief and began thinking of all the advantages to getting down early. And I knew the summit completion rate was 50/50 in a good weather season, let alone what we were dealing with.
I assured the team I would continue to help build camp and retrieve the cache and participate in other team activities (which I did), but I would go no higher.
And then the wait. How and when was I going to get down from this glacier?? That was in the hands of Pete and I did not question. The answer, however, would arrive in five days time. That Essay will be called "The End of Days" which for me were some scary times.
After dinner I spoke to the guides privately and told them I was done. I can see how steep the approach to camp 17,000' is, how my heels are not getting better, and there is no way I'm capable. I'm also hating the cold and I don't think I have proper clothing to make it to 17,000 feet overnight let alone a summit bid. They understood. I became emotional when I agreed to tell the rest of the team at breakfast the next day.
That night I spent 10 hours in the tent with my two mates tossing and turning and gasping for what little thin air there was. It was a scary and annoying night with little sleep. Not unlike what I experienced on Aconcagua. Freezing cold. Frost inside everywhere. I used my pee bottle twice.
Monday, May 22, 2017. At breakfast I told the team I was dropping out. It was emotional. I explained about the cold and my clothing and my injuries. I told them I did not feel competent with all the technical gear and I may have even mentioned my age although that was the least of my problems. I said I had nothing more to prove. I was at peace with my decision. Frankly, I felt relief and began thinking of all the advantages to getting down early. And I knew the summit completion rate was 50/50 in a good weather season, let alone what we were dealing with.
I assured the team I would continue to help build camp and retrieve the cache and participate in other team activities (which I did), but I would go no higher.
And then the wait. How and when was I going to get down from this glacier?? That was in the hands of Pete and I did not question. The answer, however, would arrive in five days time. That Essay will be called "The End of Days" which for me were some scary times.
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| My right heel shortly after getting off Denali. No amount of duct tape was going to help me keep climbing. |
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| My left heel. Chugging Advil and taping up allowed me to get down the hill in pain. |
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| Let's do this thing. |
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