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“I CAN’T GIVE UP”
By Brian Smith, age 19
December 19 to 22, 1988 (Monday through Thursday)
East Rim, Crater Lake National Park, Oregon
The shrill sound of my alarm clock quickly got my attention as I realized it was 7:00 AM and time to begin preparing for my three day solo expedition around Crater Lake’s 36 mile caldera. I caught a quick shower and pulled on my two layers of expedition weight polypropylene under layer. I had decided to use polypro because I had heard on the news that the extended forecast for the Cascade Mountains of Oregon was for extended cold temperatures with an expected high accumulation of new snow. Approximately one to two feet a night was expected. But, being young, strong and full of energy and well experienced in the backcountry, I felt invincible and confident about my upcoming three-day adventure. My dad had warned me about the upcoming storm, but my reaction was of joy, the more the show the better.
About 20 miles north of Medford, Oregon the road turned to a complete white snow pack and was very slippery. I should have realized at the time that a serious storm was on me and that I was in for a real challenge. But I was really pumped for the upcoming challenge of carrying a 65-pound pack for 36 miles through deep show. Not even a million dollars could have talked me out of my plan.
Just outside of Prospect, 50 miles north of Medford, I hit a patch of ice and in a full sideways slide, just missed hitting a school bus full of kids and a bridge guardrail. The near miss at 55 miles mph gave me more adrenaline to push my trek around Crater Lake all the harder.
I finally reached Crater Lake National Park Headquarters about 9:30 AM to find six inches of fresh, clean and light new snow on top of the dirty, hard show pack that had been left by the three weeks of warm sunshine. I had only been back from the warm, sunny beaches of Mexico for three days, so I decided that this would be a good way to get used to cold weather again. I checked in with the rangers and filled out my backcountry permit. As usual they asked me, “Are you going out along?” And as usual the answer was, “Affirmative.” After checking off the list of equipment I had in my pack, I made a notation on the form that I had six days of fuel and food with me. Meanwhile, the visibility outside was getting worse and the fresh snow was getting deeper and deeper by the hour. I had difficulty putting on my skis with my 65-pound pack on my back, but if I had taken the heavy pack off, I would not have been able to lift it on again.
I carefully Maxiglided my skis to guard against ice build-up, then off through the trees I glided. The trees were already collecting snow and the branches were starting to drop lower and lower with the weight of the snow. The first three miles went fast and before I knew it, I was over Tututni Pass of the Cascade Divide and was heading down to Vidae Fall. I then began my long three mile uphill drag to the top of Sun Notch. When I finally reached the top of the ridge, I noticed that about eight inches of new snow had fallen since I had left Park Headquarters.
The daylight was fading fast and the visibility was so bad in the meadows between Sun Notch and Kerr Notch that I began losing the road. Finally, I came to the sign on a tree saying, “Dutton Cliff Avalanche Bypass”. Because of the quickly collecting new snow, the avalanche danger was growing by the passing minutes and the danger of being pushed over the edge by the crush of a snow avalanche was nearing “high”. I proceeded to follow the orange square-shaped markers on the trees along the bypass, but after about a half to three quarters of a mile of following the blazes, I started getting lost and had a difficult time finding the next marker. Finally at 4:30 PM, with snow collecting at 1 to 2 inches per hour and falling at a constant rate, I stopped knee deep in the fresh snow and found myself exhausted from the last six and a half hour, six-mile trek. I dropped my pack and began setting up my Bibler tent. After I had my yellow shelter set up, I opened the door to climb inside and it immediately filled with blowing snow. The temperature was now running between 15 and 20 degrees F.
When setting up a winter snow camp, the first thing I always do after pitching my tent is to unroll my Therm-a rest, self-inflatable air mattress and fluff up my sleeping bag. This way I am able to get some insulation between my 98-degree body heat and the 32-degree snow directly under me. I then fire up my stove to melt snow for my drinking water and soup dinner and my favorite, hot chocolate. I quickly climb out of my wet clothes and into some dry ones, which leaves me completely naked in the 15 degree biting cold air for about 20 seconds. After I completely change my clothing, I jump into my bag, which is very cold at first, but then it instantly begins to warm up with my body heat. After warming up to a comfortable temperature, I pull my arms out again and pour my instant Ramen soup packet into my pot of boiling water, which takes about 8-10 minutes to go from frozen snow to boiling water.
It had become very dark, so I put my headlamp on, which seemed to light up the whole south side of the Park because of the darkness and the reflecting snow. I then spent the next hour preparing hot chocolate and melting more snow water the next day. I then put the hot, freshly melted water bottles under my sleeping bag, which stays warm and thawed all night because of my body heat.
I slept 13 hours straight that night, not waking up once because I was so tired from my long day’s trek. I woke up on day two of my expedition at about 8:00 AM and noticed that the walls of my tent were very weighted down and the inside of my tent had been reduced from 32 square feet to about 8 square feet. It was only about 2 feet wide and 4.5 feet long. It was almost as though I was sleeping in a yellow and brown snow cave. I punched the snow back from the door a little so that I could open it. Immediately a foot of snow flowed into my tent through the door, flowing inside my warm sleeping bag and instantly melting. During my breakfast, I spilled a whole pot of water onto my stove, which then froze the fuel pump. Because of the ice, I couldn’t pump pressure into the stove for a flame. Than after spilling the breakfast water, I spilled my soup onto my dry clothes and sleeping bag because I had become angry about the stove not working. I had set my soup down to wipe off the stove, and as I turned around, over went the soup, wetting my bag!
About this time I was getting frustrated and angry. When I stepped out of my tent into the snow, I instantly sank up to my chest in the fresh two feet of snow that had fallen in the last few hours of night. I then became slightly worried about my wet clothes, wet sleeping bag, malfunctioning stove, the deep snow, deteriorating weather conditions, and the rising avalanche conditions. I quickly discussed the situation with myself and decided to go back the 8 miles I had just come from instead of heading the rest of the 28 miles around Crater Lake. If my decision had been different, it would have been the last decision I would have made!
I slung on my pack, which had increased in weight because of added moisture and was exhausted in the first 100 yards of skiing, because it took me 20 minutes to make 100 yards. I finally set a pace of one mile every 5 hours, which was about 10 steps every 2 minutes. Not only was this pace extremely exhausting, because the unbroken snow was up to my waist, but it was also extremely frustrating. I felt as if I was a drowning man in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a 65-pound lead weight tied around his legs. Finally, about 9 hours after I had broken camp in the morning, I was 2 miles out of Kerr Notch with darkness fast approaching. I was too exhausted to go on any further, so I stopped and set up camp behind a big snowdrift, hoping the drift would cut down on the wind a bit. My stove still would not work, so I ate a couple of granola bars. I also drank most of my water but was feeling dehydrated and thirsty. After eating my granola bar, I found myself surprisingly not very hungry.
I went immediately to bed, after changing into my last pair of dry clothes. I awoke about 15 hours later after having horrible dreams about being rescued or being home in front of a big warm fire or being at a family dinner with tons to eat. Finally I packed up my camp with a goal of at least 3 miles in mind as I set out skiing back towards park headquarters.
My third day started out terrible. Fifteen feet out from camp, I found myself standing on top of a cornice that dropped about 5 feet into a hole. I climbed to the top, trying to debate which side to ski down. As I stood on top, the cornice broke off, sending me head first into the fresh, three feet of baby powder-like snow. My pack landed in such a way that all 65 pounds of weight were pressing my face into the snow. I wrestled the pack for about 10 minutes, carefully breathing so as not to breathe in too many ice crystals. I felt as if I was drowning in the snow. Finally I panicked and rolled and kicked until I was able to reach the strap releases. At long last I was able to get out of my pack and stand up, but by this time I was too exhausted to wrestle my pack back onto my back. Three tries to land my pack behind me left me sweaty and exhausted and I had not yet skied more than 15 feet! I quickly began to shiver from the dripping sweat.
I caught my breath and once again resumed my burdened travel through the soft snow with the extra 65 pounds on my back pushing me waist deep into the snow. Even going downhill was extremely tiring. With each step I would let out a small shout to encourage me and to give me a little extra strength to make the next step.
I was due back to headquarters in several hours, but the 5 miles separating me from the main park access road obviously told me I was not going to make it. About 100 yards after falling over the cornice, my left ski came off as I was kicking my next step through the powder. My ski kicking motion caused my ski to slide across the top of the snow. I held my breath as it stopped sliding, inches from dropping 1000 feet down into the steep Sun Creek Canyon below me. Had my ski gone over, it would have been almost impossible to retrieve. Without my ski on, I was now almost chest deep in the snow, making it impossible to move. I then spent the next 20 minutes doing a combination of swimming through the snow and rolling over on my pack. By the time I got to my ski, I was so exhausted and frustrated that I laid down and cried out to God, asking Him if He wanted me to die this way.
After sobbing uncontrollably for several minutes, I decided that I wasn’t going to die. I was still too young and had many things ahead in my mind. I had not seen my girlfriend, Elizabeth, for three months and we had discussed the possibility of marriage. I wasn’t going to miss seeing her again for anything. I had made plans to drive to Washington the following week to see her and I planned on carrying out my plans. I also imagined the effect my sudden and unexpected death would have on my friends and family. With renewed determination and confidence built up, I carefully put my ski on again and took off plowing through the snow. Several hours later I had reached the bottom of Sun Notch. I had come to the avalanche bypass route. I could see that several large, fresh avalanches had crossed over the snow covering the road with piles of snow up to 6 feet in depth. These avalanches had slid down the backside of Applegate Cliff just minutes before my arrival. I decided to chance the dangerous route under the cliffs rather than taking the longer and more exhausting bypass route below the cliff. I didn’t want to blow my remaining energy. I practically ran up over the top of the snow piles. The avalanched snow was freshly packed, so I could ski faster and easier over the piles than in the deep powder behind and below me. The problem was the avalanche zone was about 200 yards across. I was in the danger zone for about 10 minutes. During the whole time I was expecting to be hit on my left side with a wall of snow and carried on over into the canyon below me. I felt as if I was running away from a man with a loaded gun aimed right at me and was slowly pulling the trigger.
Just as I was nearing the end of the danger area, I decided to drop over the side into the trees in search of more stable snow. After descending 5 feet down the steep bank, I instantly sank up to my shoulders in the deep show. Now I had really done it! I was buried up to my armpits and was unable to go up or down. I first started yelling for help, hoping an adventurous skier had braved the storm for a short ski, but I quickly realized I was just wasting my time and energy. A skier 100 yards away wouldn’t have been able to hear my muffled cries from over there anyway.
So, for the second time that week, frustration overtook me and I sobbed for another 10 minutes. Finally, I realized that my frustrated crying was not getting me out, so I started digging the snow out from around me. Next, I pulled all the soft snow on the slope down to me, pushing it on down the bank below me. With the soft snow out of the way, I was able to side-stop back up the slope to the ski road where I had originally started. I was so tired by this time, I could barely move. I had one third of a mile left of my destination goal for this day’s travel.
I knew that if I stopped now, I would never get going again. I had traveled less that 70 yards from where I had climbed up from the bank below, when suddenly my left ski came off for the second time this day. The sudden extra sinking of my left foot caused me to fall over. I again started crying and out loud asked, “God, are you going to help me? I will do anything to get out of here!” I then felt stubborn and angry and decided that if God was not going to help me, then I was going to lie in the snow and die during the night from hypothermia.
But again the same thoughts as earlier crossed my mind, of my parents, Elizabeth, my sister and friends, then of my funeral…the thought of my own funeral being on Christmas Day or New Year’s scared me so bad that I got my ski back on again and immediately began pushing to get out to headquarters.
I finally reached Vidae Falls, nine hours after leaving camp earlier that day. I was so tired I barely got my tent set up. I tried to eat some of my dried deer jerky, which was all I had left besides several dry soup packets, but the jerky was too salty and it made me too thirsty. I tried eating snow, but that seemed to make me colder and thirstier. I then tried to read a few verses of the small New Testament Bible I had brought, but I was shivering too hard to keep my arms of my already water-soaked bag. I have camped out longer than these four days, but I had never suffered so many mishaps and bad luck such as deep, deep snow, skis coming off, stove quitting, falling down, no food or water for 3 days, poor visibility, etc.
I went to sleep that night with all these things running through my mind and to make it worse, I could hear the snowplow operators only 3 miles away, but I could not reach them! I awoke in the morning thirstier than I had ever been in my entire life and shaking violently from the cold. I was now 17 hours overdue. It had not quit snowing for 4 days. I began to wonder how the other 10 skiers were doing that set out the same day I had started, but going west instead of east like I had attempted.
I broke camp and decided that if I did not make it out today, I wasn’t not going to make it, period! After plowing through the quickly accumulating new snow for several hours, I finally made it back over Tututni Pass where I found an old packed ski trail several feet under the new powder. The old trail made the last mile a little easier because I wasn’t sinking quite so deep. About a half mile from the main park road I met a family who mentioned reading on the front page of today’s Medford Mail Tribune a story about the bad snowstorm and a 19 year-old man who was 24 hours overdue and still had not shown up. The Park Service had reported the missing skier was an experienced alpine snow camper and that he had several days worth of food with him and that he was well equipped. They wanted to know if maybe I was the one mentioned in the article. I realized that the story was obviously about me. The skiers then gave me their lunches, one quart of water and one of juice. I appreciated their kindness because I was starved and exhausted and had lost 12 pounds in 4 days, which is a lot to lose off a 132 pound, 19 year-old body. I also learned that the other 10 trapped skiers on the West Rim had turned around the first day of the storm and had all returned safely.
Upon reaching headquarters, I reported in, called my dad and briefly told him a little of what had happened to me. My first words to my very worried father were, “Hi Dad, I’m back.” The park staff had been preparing a search for me, but because of the storm they had to hold off a while longer. The park had also contacted Klamath Falls for a rescue helicopter, but none was available at the time.
Meanwhile, back home my grandfather had contacted the Tucker Sno-Cat Corporation in Medford to see if he could get a Sno-Cat headed out if I did not show up in another 12 hours. Grandpa had worked building Tucker Sno-Cats for 14 years.
It gave me a good feeling to know so many people cared for me and were looking out for me. When I went out to my car, I couldn’t even find it. It had been completely covered over by fresh snow. One of the rangers helped me dig it out and then helped me pull it out with a four-wheel patrol vehicle. I started driving home, but 3 miles from the park boundary, I found a tree blocking the highway. It had fallen across the road. Luckily several other people came up shortly behind me with saws to cut the tree up. I was too tired to have to worry about this now, but we finally moved it. I then arrived home in Jacksonville and explained my story. I ate my first hot meal in 4 days and climbed into my nice warm bed for my first good night’s sleep in 4 days.
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