Continued
Note: you might want to read the first part before continuing here
Lou laughed when he saw my plight. Backpack and me, flying through the air. Legs entangled. I was a funny sight, for sure. Giggles rose from my belly into my throat and spilled out. Once I untangled myself, Lou hauled me to my feet.
Jacques suggested, “Just keep your feet slightly apart and lean a bit forward, and you’ll be just fine!” He suppressed a laugh, too.
As sun was setting, we clambered into the helicopter for our first short hike. The pilot, Stephan, distributed headphones. “To protect your ears,” he explained. “This bird is really loud.”
We lifted off as the sky turned red. It felt as if we were floating above the treetops, in slow motion.
I was experiencing a myriad of emotions coming at me like a car out of control. Tears, giggles, breathlessness, loneliness, numbness. All at once. Lou gripped my hand. Our eyes met. He was feeling it, too.
Amidst the tall, snow-covered peaks, we landed on a gravel “dime,” or so it seemed. All around us was setting sun, brilliant like a new copper penny or a rose petal, or a peach. We walked for a short bit with Jacques, to the rim, overlooking mountains, some taller, others not, but all clothed in wedding gowns.
Sadly. We had to return. So much to talk about as we sat around the firepit facing the Vowell glacier, laughing and reliving the eventful day.
Then, sudden quiet like a blanket settled upon us as the sparks rose up to a sky laden with stars to the horizon.
During the next two days we acclimated to how heli-hiking worked. We had 3 to 4 hikes a day, each around 2 miles in length.
After breakfast the Big Bell would pick up one group and deliver them to a new mountain and took off again to pick up more skilled hikers and so on.
There were 4 groups of hikers, from unskilled to advanced climbers.
Lou and I were in group 2, and our guide was Jacques. His job was to nudge us fledglings along and keep us safe, as Big Bell picked us up and dropped us off every 2 hours or so.
Somehow Stephan managed to move the 4 groups of hikers, like pieces on a magnificent chess board!
Of course we had breaks. Mid-morning, lunchtime, and mid-afternoon. Each break was on a snow-covered peak. Hot tea, fresh fruit, protein bars, freshly baked muffins.
Lunch was a delicious full course barbecue prepared on a grill in a spectacular location.
Don’t worry, CMH adhered strictly to the Native American clean earth philosophy, “take only memories and leave only footprints.” They believed strongly in good stewardship of the earth.
We visited flower bedecked valleys with brooks to cross and waterfalls to stand behind.
On another stop Stephan dropped us at the toe of a glacier with running water, icy blue. And boulders the size of houses! Up we climbed!
Then came day 4. After lunch, Big Bell dropped our group of 14 Level Two hikers on a gravel spit at the crest of a tall peak!
We started our hike. It was so beautiful. Each time we climbed over a rock, there was an even more spectacular view. “How is this possible?” I marvelled.
Suddenly the temperature dropped 15 degrees, and the sun disappeared. Heavy wind gusted. Dark clouds loomed like spectres. The sky opened up. Snow.
Not snow. Blizzard!
An unanticipated snow squall, all in a matter of 5 minutes.
“Don’t worry,” Jacques said as he instructed us to stay together. “These squalls end as quickly as they appear,” he reassured us.
Only it didn’t end. Conditions worsened into a whiteout. Jacques was on the walkie talky. “We are all here, and we are safe,” he spoke loudly over the gale. “We’ll hunker down here till it’s over,” he said to Base. “We’ll break out the gear asap.”
I finally understood why our backpacks were filled to the brim with survival gear!
Lou helped me and others get settled while Jacques helped more. Soon we were snug in our pup tents. Sort of. It was pretty scary, let me tell you! And cold.
And so it was that we spent the night on a tall peak in a blizzard … in August.
Morning came, revealing a brilliant sunrise. And a foot of snow.
“Sorry, folks,” Jacques said. He paused and cleared his throat.
Then the announcement…
“Stephan cannot pick us up.”
We stared in disbelief. Then a barrage of questions.
“How long do we have to stay here?”
“Is Big Bell broken?’
“Will they send a rescue team for us?”
Jacques did his best to explain the situation. Everyone was talking at once
“Shh, calm down,” Lou said. “Give the man a chance to explain.”
“Okay, folks. Here’s the deal. Big Bell can’t fly in because the noise, the blades,” he stopped. Then started again. “There’s a big danger of avalanche.”
There was a slow palpable rise of panic. “So?” Our question hung there.
“We hike down the mountain. Stephan can land down there in the gravel area by the tarn.” He pointed to a “dot” in the distance.
“Oh, my God,” we muttered in unison.
“Most of us are close to 70!”
“Speak for yourself,” Arnold. I’m only 62, but I have bad knees.”
“And I have a slipped disc,” Lucy whined.
“Don’t worry,” Jacques explained. “The strongest of us” he looked at Lou “will help the weakest of us to make the descent from up here to down there.”
“Let’s get started then. Who needs help packing your gear?”
“Hey,” I said,” Jacques, how about we just sit on our rumps and slide down the mountain? You know, like a gigantic slippery sliding board!”
That broke the ice, pun intended. Everyone giggled nervously.
Jacques taught us how to get down the mountain. By driving one foot at a time sideways into the snow, we made a sort of stair case, person by person. With help of Jacques, Lou, and two others to support us, we very slowly descended. It was slippery, treacherous work, but everyone made it.
Stephan met us near the tarn with hot tea and blankets. With hugs all around, we praised ourselves for our feats of bravery and gave copious thanks to Jacques and to my personal hero!
Later back at the lodge that evening, we sat around the fire. Some of us, including me, sported ice packs and hot packs on knees, ankles, you name the body part. My knee was twice its normal size.
“Ahem, can I have your attention briefly?” Jacques said. “I propose a toast to the bravest Level Two guests we have ever had!”
Glasses clinked all around as words of thanks filled the room.
He continued, “Now I can tell you that your descent this morning was a level one.”
“What does that mean?”
“But we are only the Level Two team!”
“Ahh, but in terms of climbing difficulty,”Jacques continued, “your descent was a category one, on any mountain!”
More champagne flowed, more looks of amazement.
“CMH proudly bestows these bronze medals to our Level Two group,” he paused. “With Gold Medals going to Lou, Gordon, and Mary Beth for their selflessness and heroism on the descent!”
I turned to Lou and planted a big wet kiss on his lips.
And he returned it.
Note: I feel obligated to tell you we weren’t really stranded overnight (poetic license, if you will). The snow squall was real, and we did have to descend from 12,000 feet to 7,000 feet. And it was a frightening and dangerous experience.
But if you ever want an adventurous vacation, Canadian Mountain Holidays offers powder skiing from helicopters in winter. In summer, there is trail biking, whitewater rafting, photography hiking , and heli hiking … with the finest trail guides and pilots anywhere!
As for grizzlies, they are real, but the thunder and whoosh caused by Big Bell frightens them away!
Tell me whether you enjoyed reading this two-part real-life adventure!
I’m listening!
Etlainie92@gmail.com