Roger Ellis: AK-239

But this is the dead of winter. As I walked near the last tower I heard the frozen cables on the lift start. The icy cold, braded steel grumbled like an old man trying to get out of bed.

I sure hope they don’t start allowing faux mountain climbers to use the chair lifts now, I sarcastically mumbled to myself.

I remember thinking: These idiots will probably get hit on the head by a rock or an icefall.

Even a small rock sized chunk of ice can slice skin, brake bones or knock you unconscious. In which case:

They’ll be seeing Jesus before they see the top!

Most came up the South side, as it’s the easiest of the fifteen ways to the top. Even in December rocks are always a major concern. The Old Chute is the last leg but the easiest way to ascend the top. But even this route is a forty-five-degree climb and nearly vertical in some places.

Rookies were always wondering up here with the latest designed, neon chartreuse parkas (Sorry I guess I am a little bitter at the novices who attempt this climb without any prep.) I always carried a good climbing helmet, crampons, ice ax, and rope. I’d spend other savings on more important things, like a nice, quiet Alaskan vacation.

My father’s old friend, Richard Bass, gave me his twenty-year-old ski pants and an ugly, thirty-year-old, black drab parka. Bass was the first person to climb all seven of the world’s tallest mountains. I’d always remembered Bass’s comment when I was little:

“Prepared doesn’t mean flashy clothing, son. It means: Warm clothing, proper equipment, oh, and a damn good map!”

Although times have changed, my old school philosophy remained the same:

You can have MotionX GPS and Elevation Pro on your phone but if your phone breaks or your battery goes out you still need a map!

That’s the advice I’d give my co-workers who wanted a hike to the top.

That and:

If your phone breaks none of your hot new-fangled GPS garbage is worth your life!

If your battery goes dead,

“You’re on your own, son,” as Bass would say.

No sir! When your life depended on it, I wanted to pull out my old, trusty, waterproof map!

I was on point in a SEAL platoon that breached a compound in Kandahar, Afghanistan when I lost contact with my team. I wondered why, suddenly, I was the only guy in the place shooting bad guys. Our satellite feed had gone down and no one, except for me, seemed to be able to function!

After that I always thought,

Keep your stupid high tech stuff! I got my map!

Also, I didn’t mind people but they were sometimes a distraction from simply enjoying nature. As I continued up the mountain I did something very dangerous. I pulled out my iPhone 7 and put in ear buds. I searched for: “Sunrise” by Duran Duran[2] (Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9u-BoI_kFt8) and hit play.

I knew this was dangerous, as I might not hear any calls for help or rocks hurling at me. But, for the moment, I wanted to be a rookie climber too and just enjoy the moment:

Sunrise!

It was beautiful.

Rays of golden light shot across the mountain and in an instant hit the fog in the valleys below like a beacon from heaven.

Whoever says there is no God clearly hasn’t seen this.

As I turned my head back up the mountain my mind couldn’t help but wonder to Mohammed Al-Aqsa, MAA, my new surveillance project.

My brain quickly buried that thought and I slammed that door shut.

I have to stop thinking about everything but this climb!

My mind immediately wandered again.

I found it hard to believe, at age thirty-five, Portland, this sleepy little town, in the valleys below, had grown into a sprawling metropolis of over two million people. So with rising numbers of good people comes the bad.

My latest job was to track and determine whether MAA was bad or just another Muslim caught in the red tape of government surveillance. MAA had already been watched 24/7 by the Bureau in Minnesota.

MAA was only twenty-three years old and a U.S. citizen because he was born in Minneapolis to Somali parents. MAA had no friends or family in Portland and was coming only to study engineering. The FBI had given us this really stupid six-month rule from the Department of Justice (DOJ). If the guy you are surveilling doesn’t do anything criminal within six months you must stop all surveillance. Court order or no court order!

Now my best friend in school was Muslim but after entire evenings discussing politics and religion I still couldn’t understand how an American citizen could get on a plane and go join ISIS. But that is exactly what MAA’s brother had done! Never to be seen or heard again! After reading literally dozens of these files at the office my team concluded something no one else at the FBI had concluded: While some of these guys were radicalized, others were just plain bored and wanted some excitement.

Suddenly, my senses transported me back to reality! The sun had completely emerged from its slumber and the snow would soon be a blistering white. I had been climbing since before 4 a.m. but this made it all worth it.

Fortunately, I was given a great pair of Ray Ban Aviator Polarized lenses and I had purchased zinc oxide at Government Camp the night before for my nose: Old school all the way!

I had spent the night with old friends from school at this beautiful twenty-five-room chalet my science teacher from school owned. We had a great night telling old stories that, now, with the passage of time, might have been just slightly exaggerated. I felt like a kid again by running on only two hours of sleep!

I smeared the oxide all over my nose. Kids would think I was some crazy old man but I didn’t care. I stood out from some of the very white locals with my naturally dark skin but I could still get sunburned. You actually can get an Oregonian sunburn in December as the sun and snow can still really magnify and burn you.

As the sun brightened, I was on the Hogsback, the last stretch before the top of the mountain. I had already traversed around the Bergshrund Crevasse.

The day was perfect. Clear, except for some patchy fog in the lowlands. Just as I was admiring the stunning beauty, my crampon slipped and some ice gave away from under my foot. Okay, don’t panic. Everything’s fine.

While this looked like a harmless, beautiful white landscape I knew that if I fell here I wouldn’t be able to stop ‘til I fell another 300 hundred feet into the Devil’s Kitchen. It was a fumarole, a vent that releases toxic volcanic gases, such as deadly sulfur, from deep inside the earth.

(Listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP-BeFi58tQ)[3]

Several people died on Hood just from being trapped near the gases and not being able to hike out in time. This morning I could see the deadly gases puffing like Indian smoke signals, out of what looked to be a bottomless pit. I was told, no one knew how deep that crevasse was and thought:

And I don’t wanna find out!

After regaining my footing, I looked up and couldn’t believe my eyes. There were two people above me already at the top of the Old Chute, which is near the top of the mountain! As I looked closer one had on a t-shirt and jeans!

No helmets and probably not even crampons.

Twenty-four degrees and in a t-shirt?

Morons!

With loose rocks surrounding them I actually mumbled out loud,

“Crazy!”

No sooner had I finished saying that than I heard a shriek.

The guy slipped and is now shooting toward me like a bullet.

His girlfriend began screaming!

I yelled, “Dig in! Dig in! But quickly I realize the poor kid has on an old pair of tennis shoes.”

I pull my ice pick but quickly realize this will likely do me no good. So, I sling the pick around my wrist and take my twenty-five-foot rope and tosses it into the path of the speeding bullet yelling,