Terror on the Hiking Trail

Posted on by Deb

Good morning everyone! Erin is enjoying a bit of down time so I’m jumping in today to cover her regular Tuesday post. What follows is a true story about facing (certain?) death and coming out on the other side stronger…while carrying ahead a slightly less dramatic viewpoint that allows for a giggle or two to cherish.

“Grit is having the courage to push through, no matter what the obstacles are, because it’s worth it.”

Chris Morris

My daughter Alison is an outdoor adventurer. She works for the United States Geological Survey (USGS) and one of the perks is that she gets to be outside, mostly in extremely beautiful, but often rugged settings. Hiking, even when she’s not working, is a favorite pastime and many years ago, when I was younger, but honestly less fit, she and I hiked the Naches Peak Loop Trail. Part of this loop lies along the Pacific Crest Trail. If you know Cheryl Strayed and her book Wild then you may be familiar with some or all of the PCT.

Naches Peak, Washington

It’s probably important to clarify that at the time I had just begun walking routinely…on flat surfaces at sea level. It’s also important to know that I am terrified of heights. The Naches Peak trail begins well up into the Cascade mountains at roughly 1 mile above sea level. I believe this is considered a moderate hike but in general (if you stay aware of the elevation) it is not at all a strenuous hike even though you do gain elevation moderately as you climb reaching just under 6000 feet. 

We had a beautiful, sunny day and the views were amazing as we climbed up toward this small alpine tarn.   

I was feeling quite confident at that point. My knees weren’t aching and I hadn’t encountered anything too fear inducing. I could do this! I was a HIKER! While my legs continued to be strong, my lungs started to protest as we climbed. Something seemed to be sucking the oxygen out of my body as fast as I was trying to add more. Our goal at that point was the peak area where the trail branched. I set my eyes on the rocky spot in the distance and pushed on, aware that I wasn’t having fun but being too mentally addled by a euphoric lack of oxygen to really care.

Alison seemed to be getting farther and farther ahead of me and I wondered if somehow I was descending backwards even though I could swear I was facing uphill. I made it to the top, collapsed on a rock and tried, mostly in vain, to suck in more and more oxygen, probably looking like a gulping fish just reeled up onto the shoreline. As my life was flashing before me there I was for all the passing hikers to see, holding an imaginary neon sign that flashed “Inexperienced hiker! Supplemental O2 please!”

I never did ask Alison what was going through her mind at the time, but I would guess that maybe she was wishing I had stayed in the parking lot. In time, and thanks to my years of training expectant parents in Lamaze childbirth breathing techniques, I pulled myself together without hyperventilating and we continued on to a rocky overlook (where I stayed well back from the edge) and had a lovely lunch. I might have asked nonchalantly as we packed up lunch if we had more uphill to cover. “No, we’re headed down,” said my daughter. “Thank God,” I muttered to myself!

I assumed that I could manage quite well as long as we weren’t going any higher so I set out to enjoy the views on the way down. Those views included breathtaking visuals of Mt Rainier, so close you would believe you could touch it.

I’ve seen that mountain for 63 years and it still astounds me every time. Fortunately by then I had already put the oxygen deprivation incident behind me.

My map below shows our route that day.  

The brown X is the parking lot and we headed out along that brown line in the direction of the orange arrow. I did not mark where I collapsed on the rock however. I assume you see the red star? This is approximately where I froze in my tracks and had to contemplate turning around and going all the way back to the parking lot down the trail we had just climbed. Why you may ask? 

What had been an acceptably “wide enough” trail suddenly and inexplicably turned into a sheer and very solid rock face on my right, a sheer drop off on my left and a trail that I still swear to this day went from “wide enough” to “no wider than the width of 1 hiking boot.” Seriously, I could not move and while Alison trekked on and disappeared around the bend I was panicking. She realized I wasn’t behind her, turned around, and along with a few other hikers sort of stared at me with puzzled looks on all their faces.

Try to imagine this scene if you will: I literally cannot move my feet, fearing that I will instantly catapult myself over the edge. All the while I know I have to let the hikers pass. Good trail etiquette means you yield the right of way, and that usually means you step to the downhill side of the trail. The only thing that my brain registered at that point was that there was NO downhill side of the trail. So, I literally flattened myself up against the sheer rock wall so that they could pass while Alison waited. Once they moved on she offered to hold my hand and guide me, noting that within about 20 feet the trail widened and a gentler downhill slope appeared. Nope. This was the most mind-numbing fear I have ever felt. So much so that I was actually convinced that my body was going to simply toss itself over the edge all on its own volition. I couldn’t risk holding onto Alison and taking her with me. I stood some more, watching Alison watch me and then I screwed up my courage. Since that time I have grown to love these two incredibly appropriate quotes attributed to Cheryl Strayed:

“I could go back in the direction I had come from, or I could go forward in the direction I intended to go.”

“I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed.”

After asking Alison to double check if the trail was open ahead; after setting my eyes on the spot I needed to reach; after starting my Lamaze breathing again, and while leaning at an odd angle with my upper body toward the rock wall on the right to dispel some of the dizziness, I moved with shear focus and determination to reach the spot where Alison waited. Everything after that is still a blur. I have no recollection of the next 10 or 15 minutes getting back down to the highway and the parking lot. That entire time is wiped from my brain but I survived through that sheer grit and a refusal to die on the mountain that day.

As the years have come and gone Alison and I, on occasion, will remember that day. I fully admit that I was not as prepared as I should have been, and also that I may have made more out of that horrific point on the trail than I needed to. Yet it’s no fun when your lungs refuse to work and when logic is absent- plus a 20 foot pathway seems like 200 miles. It really was a wonderful day spent with Alison yet- to this day, whenever she and I talk about this hike it is referred to as “oh yeah, that day you (I) almost died…twice.”

*All photos and map courtesy of the National Park Service.

54 thoughts on “Terror on the Hiking Trail”

  2. Wow…this line? …”and a trail that I still swear to this day went from “wide enough” to “no wider than the width of 1 hiking boot.” I think I started to sweat, just reading that, Deb. Love the potent memory that you’ll have forever with Alison but wow. I can see why you describe it as the day you almost died. 😲

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    1. Oh Vicki, no one will ever convince me otherwise about that trail narrowing down to inches! I’ve often wondered (to myself only) had we started the hike on that side and I had encountered death so early on in the process if I would have gone ahead. I’ve never asked Alison if she knew better and if she purposefully chose to start us on the easier side? I think I will just leave that thought alone and say a grateful silent thank you to her no matter what- believing she had a plan all along 🙂

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      1. I’m with you – all the way! I’d be curious, too, if Alison knew that skinny trail would entirely derail your adventure and planned accordingly. 😉 I would’ve ‘turned tail’ for sure. Isn’t it fun when our daughters know us better than ourselves sometimes?
        xo! 😘

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  3. I completely relate to your experience with the narrow hiking trail on a sheer solid rock face dropping off. I have a fear of heights too, and have panicked seeing the trail narrow. I don’t know if I could have made it. I’m amazed you did it.

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    1. Thanks EA, for the empathy. I know it’s hard for many to relate and I wish I had that ability to convince myself that there’s no need to fear but holy cow I just don’t see myself buying into that plan 🙂

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      1. There’s a hike up a hill or small mountain in the nature’s preserve across the street. I’ve yet to make it to the top because there’s a scramble across a steep face. I wait for my husband and friends to go up and come back for me. Easier than your hike because it’s up and down and not a loop.

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      2. I would be right there with you EA, just meandering around while the group scrambled over scree or talus. I don’t trust my footing at all. Funny you mention this- Alison did part of a hike like this when we were vacationing in the San Juans. We’d already covered forest and wet, slippery rocky headlands. I gladly let her venture on alone and met her farther down the trail after she ascended from the beach 🙂

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    1. Thank you Dr. Stein for giving me the option to blame my oxygen deprived brain! People talk about facing moments of fear and I can truly say this was the biggest wall of numbing fear I have ever experienced. I have no plans to do it again 🙂

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    1. YEP! I became way too confident. I mean we were on a mountain, I should have known better but you can talk yourself into all sorts of silly beliefs. I recently took a hike alone and the elevation gain was extreme by most standards. I stopped half way, realizing I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. I’ll just try again another day and maybe, at some point, I will summit…or not 🙂

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  6. What an interesting job your daughter has. I would love a job where I get to spend that much time in outdoors and with breathtaking beauty!

    The hike you did sounded quite rough and I can see how it caused a lot of stress. The trail mapped on the map looked quite intense. But you found a way to get through it and get to now share the story of great resilience!

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    1. Daughters job does offer so much for the outdoor enthusiast Ab! She’s all over the Rockies now, but had the opportunity to even fly into a remote glacier on Mt. Rainier pictured in the post before she relocated. I hope that I’ve gained some wisdom (and I think I have) since that day. Besides now my ankles protest a lot more 😉 It was a beautiful area though, which I will now keep as a memory!

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    1. Thanks so much for reading today! It was a good lesson to be better prepared and know your limits for sure. I’ve never pushed the resiliency boundaries that far since that day.

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    1. It is a memory we will always share Brian! Alison is very adventurous. I often think about how great it might have been to not be her mom but just another outdoorsy friend from college who wasn’t terrified of heights. We could have conquered many other mountains I think 🙂

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  9. Oh my. I’m exhausted just reading about your adventure. I can’t imagine experiencing it! I guess it gives new meaning to the expression, “Do or die. “Congratulations for doing and staying alive to tell the tale.

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    1. Thanks Julia! I think this was the first time recalling that day that my anxiety levels didn’t shoot into overdrive 🙂 Yes, “do or die” is a perfect way to say it even though I was a bit too naive at the time I’m proud of the fact that I pushed through and lived to share the story!

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  11. I’ve been on that hike; it was my third date with John back in August 2018. I remember that it was moderate and I don’t think we went as far as you did because I would have had the same reaction to the high narrow trail. I too am terrified of heights and no amount of logic can get rid of the vertigo. I’ve tried so many times. It doesn’t sound like there was space enough for me to do my usual–which is crawl. Glad you didn’t die in your attempt because I would miss our coffee dates! 🙂

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    1. I’m certain you would know that spot had you encountered it! Clearly it’s still burned in my brain. There were many side trails on the less arduous side to wander around so yes, I suspect you were lucky enough to avoid the death plunge entirely 🙂

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  13. I love this hiking story! And every time I see Mt. Rainier, it astounds me too!

    I love how you tell this story and have great graphics to add to it. Amazing that fear can make us want to take the long way back – but fear is that base level emotion that blocks everything else out, doesn’t it? Absolutely amazing that you could block that out to push on through — that is some incredible toughness! And makes for a very memorable and fun story.

    Love this post, Deb!

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    1. Isn’t our mountain amazing! I remember the first time in Colorado. While there’s certainly a whole lot of Rockies to see I missed Rainier so much.

      There was a literal wall on that teeny trail and I wasn’t moving, not around it or through it for the longest time. I know if I’d been alone I would have turned around and hiked all the way back around and down. It was seeing Alison standing there that literally made me say f*** this and push through. Sometimes you do things for/with your kids that you can’t imagine doing 🙂

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    1. Well that is so nice Brenda and encouraging. I wish you’d been standing on that little path telling me it was going to be okay at the time 🙂

      That moment taught me that we can sometimes do more than we ever believe, although I seriously doubt I would go back there again!

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      1. Maybe you wouldn’t want Mr with you. I turned into a blubbering wreck climbing Ben Nevis. Just sat down on a rock crying, refusing to go any further 🤣🤣🤣

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      2. LOL!!! I think I remember a moment feeling exactly the same way. Apparently I get very stubborn in the face of danger which at first strikes me as a positive thing…or maybe just not so smart depending on what I’m up against 😉

        I Googled Ben Nevis and WOW its really beautiful and apparently popular! It looks really challenging, steep, very open to the weather and one site mentioned loose rock near the summit? No thank you. In that case, I’d be crying right along with you!

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      4. Well, at least you gave it a shot! I did see that it’s the tallest at 4000+ ft. Mt. Rainier (the snow covered peak in my post) stands at 14000+ feet and people summit it all the time! Imagine that, and again I say no thanks 🙂

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  16. I know that fear of which you speak. It has happened to me on a few occasions (on roofs/ not hiking trails) and it is mind gripping terror. You do an excellent job capturing the emotion of it. It sounds beautiful! Makes me think of John Muir and why he loved the wilderness.

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    1. I am so in awe and hold so much respect for folks like you Doug, who will even attempt to go up on a roofline. Speaking of- I live just behind our city hall building and it is currently being re-roofed by the same crew who did my neighbors extremely pitched roof a few months back. This place is massive, 3 stories high in places and extremely steep. These guys are just swinging around on their ropes, running back and forth and generally doing their jobs. I really don’t feel like I should be whining about my incident when I watch them 😉 I do appreciate your kind words and yes- you just loose all sense when the terror strikes.

      Our Cascades our gorgeous- we’re really lucky to see them and be so close. John Muir comes to mind for me also when I’m out hiking. He knew what he was talking about didn’t he 😉

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  17. Wow! You really did stick it out, in two separate situations! I think I would have found the second one even more disturbing, as heights can sometimes really bother me. But good for you for “powering through!”

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    1. Thank you Ann! Yes, I did stick it out and I thought I was in the clear after I re-oxygenated 😉 Heights are my most profound fear so even though we were 6000 ft up, until the end everything was really doable on the trails, until it wasn’t but how ridiculous to turn around at that point- 15 minutes from completing the full loop. I do have a stubborn streak and apparently that won out in that moment!

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    1. Michelle, I would not have predicted that I would push ahead at all, ever. Some small bit of rational thinking, plus looking at my daughter standing there so patiently just waiting must have allowed some confidence to kick in, but I honestly don’t know how. I suppose we never really know how far we’ll push ourselves until we assume we have no choice.

      You may surprise yourself, and on a loop trail you can always turn around and go back the way you came 😉

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  19. Oh my gosh, I so felt for you there. I live at 6300 ft. I don’t hike. Most people do not realize how quickly altitude can affect the lungs and brain. It can leave you woozy for weeks until you get used to it and the older you are, the longer it takes. I don’t even like to drive anywhere that I don’t know exactly what I’m getting into. Hiking will be done only with a rifle pointed at my head. I’ll hike through the mall with flat wide walkways, thank you very much. You are very brave to try all of that. I have a little hill behind us and some days my lungs burn trying to get up it. I’m impressed you pushed forward. I even hate driving those roads where there are drop offs. I’m going to finish here now, close my eyes, and try to catch me breath. You had every right to be terrified.

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      1. It always took me a couple of weeks to get used to the altitude when I visited up here. I tell folks that come for a short visit to drink extra water and take it very easy. Even the young can get fooled.

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  20. I know the feeling. I experienced something similar when I went hiking with my daughter and her husband in Utah. Although I don’t think I got to a point where I was clinging to a rock face, I certainly recall that I was gasping for air by the time we reached our destination. Well done, you, for meeting the challenge and powering through.

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    1. Thanks Sue! I have learned since that time to take hiking slow, rather those around me like my stopping a lot or not. You also get to see a lot more that way, with a lot of breaks to regroup and get some oxygen!

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