**The following events happened exactly 5 years ago. Tip back an IPA tonight in memory of a man who is gone but will never be forgotten. What you are about to read is an excerpt from my book, "Leaping into Lovers Lane."
The hike up to the
base of Goat Wall left him wiping his brow. The load in his backpack was much
lighter this time since he wasn't burdened with the weight of climbing
hardware. He had only brought his climbing harness, shoes, rope and a few karabiners
for the rappel descent. Still, the twenty-minute steep approach was not for the
faint of heart, nor the out of shape.
After removing his
backpack, a gentle September breeze swept up from the Methow Valley and flapped
his sweat-drenched T-shirt away from his skin. Lost River flowed three hundred feet
below on the valley floor, twisting and turning its way through sparsely
populated Mazama, Washington, located on the North Eastern flanks of the
Cascade Mountains, emptying into the Columbia River and hundreds of miles away
into the Pacific Ocean. The sights and sounds of the Methow Valley filled his
senses as the sun kissed him.
Makiah, our twenty-five-pound
miniature Australian Shepherd, was panting too. The big steps he had to
take during the scramble up in the talus field were enormous leaps for her. Yet
he didn’t need to assist her, she had made it up on her own. He’d contemplating
shaving her fur - especially since she was miserable in the late season summer
heat. But fall was just around the corner and she'd be more than a little
humiliated without her signature shaggy coat.
Squinting up at the rock, he quickly found his rock-climbing route,
Prime Rib on Goat Wall. Rated a moderate sport climb, where metal bolts are
drilled into the rock face, the climb gains a total of 650 feet. He knew exactly
where it started since he had researched the climb quite a bit. That morning he
had spoken with Brian Burdo, who had developed a lot of the sport climbs in the
Mazama and surrounding area, including Prime Rib, and received a first hand
account of what to expect on each portion of the climb. He was so confident in
his choice of climb that day that he left the climbing guidebook back at his
one room rustic cabin about a mile up Lost River road. He was, after all, an expert
and experienced climber, rope or no rope.
Climbing suited his athletic and compact frame. His strong,
muscular hands could cling onto the smallest rock features while his body
contorted sideways. He could flex his core so tightly it would momentarily
suspend him, weightless on the rock. Not only was he built for rock climbing, but
also his pain threshold and ability to transcend through discomfort allowed him
to push the limits.
Pushing his limit happened every time he encountered rock. Each
and every time he approached rock he would show up ready to improve his
climbing through sheer grit, determination and hard work. It provided a portal
to his nirvana: improving himself through climbing.
His confidence had grown as he gained experience climbing in
countless regions around the world. Over ten years of practice, rocks had
become extensions of his body. Everything in his life revolved around climbing.
All vacations were at climbing destinations; he frequented climbing forums and
all of his friends were climbers. He lived, breathed, and slept climbing. He would climb with such passion and become
so obsessed with what he was doing, that in those moments, nothing else
mattered.
Armed with information on what to expect on the Prime Rib
route, and knowledge that the climb was rated well within his ability, he
decided to climb without a partner and the added protection of using a rope to
ascend.
He set his backpack
down, pulled out his climbing harness, shoes, rope, and chalk bag, and took a
big swig of water. Sitting down on a flat rock, he took off his approach shoes
and carefully slipped on his tight climbing shoes.
"You stay here,
Makiah."
He didn't even
bother to tie her up. He didn't need to. Makiah was well trained and did as she
was told. Plus she rarely wandered and always stayed within earshot. He stashed
his backpack near the base of the climb and left Makiah with some water. He
slung a seventy-meter rope over his shoulder, crisscrossing it around his chest,
and secured it with a series of climber knots so it wouldn't impede his ascent.
He planned on using the rope to descend. He chalked up his hands and with that he
started to climb up the loose adventure route. This was it, one last climb
before heading home to Seattle after spending a week in Mazama. One
final climb to top a fun filled week full of recreation in the Pacific
Northwest.
Makiah watched as
her owner started the ascent up Goat Wall, and once he was out of sight she dug
herself a comfortable spot to wait and keep careful guard over her owner’s
backpack.
She was the last being to see him alive.
