Going up Mt. Thielson

     My thighs have been so sore since climbing Mt. Thielson that I have lurched whenever I stand up. 

    It was that kind of hike.

    At first it looked impossible,

    

The hard part yet to come.      photo by Greg Stanko

but Greg, Chas, Cheryl, and I were on what was clearly a trail, so others had done it, including Greg and Cheryl, years ago, so we could, too, couldn't we?

    After several miles of gradual climbing through woods, we hit the steep parts and the loose rock. Shale. Scree. Trails that disappeared into just paths of rockfall. Even standing upright was hard, much less walking, much less climbing. (Oh, the thighs!) 

Greg and I were hiking ahead of Chas and Cheryl, who were following who knows what route. We didn't see them again until they met up with us at the top.

    Once when my feet slipped out from under me, I fell on my butt and slid a foot or so before I could dig in my heels and wedge a pole against a solidly placed rock. I planted the other pole against another rock, but when I took weight off my hips and tried to stand, I slid a few more inches. 

    Greg to the rescue. He assured me he was firmly standing, so I took his hand, he pulled me up, and on we went.

    The slippery stuff went on for miles (didn't it?). Then came the boulders and the high steps.

And then the top. Or nearly the top—a narrow ledge that was close enough to be called the top, Greg said, though there was another 30-foot climb to the tip-top. I watched a young woman do it. She was stretching hard both up and down. She told me she was 5'2". I wondered if I could make it without those two extra inches. 

    Another group on the ledge with us used ropes.

I thought I would try it, anyway, but even the first step was too high and the handholds too tenuous for me to feel I could do it safely, so I stayed where I was and could still say I had climbed Mt Thielson.

    Climbed up, yes, but could I get down again?

    The four of us started down together but quickly got separated again. Greg and I made a slippery, tenuous, unbalanced way down, both of us sliding and stumbling as we traversed across dangerous loose rock, then stood with shaking legs on a narrow ridge of solid rock before traversing to another. We had lost whatever trail there might have been but could see Chas and Cheryl and other hikers above us, seemingly on a trail, so we made our treacherous way across the slope as they came down it. When we reached the trail, we paused to put a band-aid on a cut on my shin. One of the other hikers passing by said, "You're not the only one," and showed me a big rip in the back of her shorts. 

    Greg and I were back at the trailhead by 6:00. When Chas and Cheryl joined us, Greg opened a cooler in his truck and pulled out a bottle of sparkling cider (in lieu of champagne, he said, since not all of us drank alcohol). We toasted each other in both celebration and congratulations. I especially raised a toast to Greg, who had taken me up Mt. McLoughlin a few years ago and had now taken me up—and back down—the amazing Mt. Thielson. 

    What a day.

(All photos except the first are by Chas Rogers.)