I've had that fortune taped to the wall beside my desk for months. It landed in my hands after having a bowl of Pho with Susan -- a good bowl of noodles with my dearest friend, it's a remedy that cures all ills. The fortune at the time seemed apropos (no Dad Susan's didn't say help I'm trapped in a fortune cookie factory) and it seems even more fitting today.

We didn't reach the summit this weekend. We had great weather Friday with views that were astounding. But shortly after snow camp started on Saturday the clouds rolled in and a fine mist covered us through training. It was a minor bother as we were wet anyway from practicing our self-arrest techniques, which basically means you are throwing yourself into a slide only to see how quickly you can stop.

At about 4pm we hopped in a snow cat and headed to the Silcox Hut. The hut is far from a hut -- it's a mini lodge that was once the ending point of the first lift at Timberline.  It has a grand room with an enormous fireplace and then downstairs there are bunk rooms that sleep four, although only one person can really stand in the room at a time.  We had dinner at 5pm and headed off to get some sleep for a few hours.  At 11pm we had breakfast while clinging to the hope that we'd be headed out the door and up the mountain.

Our hopes were dashed as our lead guide, Doug Ironside, went outside to check out the conditions and came back in looking like he'd been in a hurricane.  We knew the weather forecast didn't look good, but Doug looked worse!  He made the decision to delay our start time until 2am and we crossed our fingers that the storm would blow through.  Well 2 became 4 and 4 became 6 and the notion of reaching the summit was carried off with the winds.

At 6am those of us that were still committed to getting a bit higher on the mountain put on our gear and headed out the door with our guides, Doug, Chad & Rodney.  We worked our way across the snowfield and through gulleys that offered some shelter from the wind.  Everything was coated with a new layer of ice and getting our trekking poles to penetrate the surface was a challenge. When we moved up onto the dirt and rock rims the footing came more easily put planting poles was still tough as they wanted to blow out of our hands. See and hear it for yourself by watching this short movie that Josh took.

The group decided that we had to at least get to the top of the Palmer Snowfield, so covered in rime we continued pushing into the wind. At 8540 ft the clouds parted and we caught a glimpse of the path we would have taken to the summit. The sky was a brilliant blue and we unfurled our climb banner, prayer flags, grabbed the cameras and declared this our summit for the day. You can experience this as well, thanks to Josh. There are a couple of new photos posted here as well and I'll add more as I collect them from Josh, Eric and the other climbers.

Am I disappointed, yes a bit. But I'm not a blue as one might think. You just can't really argue with Mother Nature or a Mountain -- they'll win and you'll be lucky to limp home. Even without the summit this journey was remarkable. It challenged me phsyically, emotionally and is a reminder that Sir Edmond Hilary was a wise chap when he said "It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves."

If you're in Portland, come celebrate with us this Wednesday night at the Chesterfield, 1101 E Burnside.  All food & drink purchased from 4pm - close will benefit the Climb. (Yes the climb is over but the fundraising doesn't stop quite yet!)

Thanks for reading,

Erika