When A Mountain Becomes A Memorial

For my birthday a few weekends ago, I was able to head out with some of my family (the ones who love to scramble up mountains) and revisit a summit that I was not able to reach a little less than two years ago when I was there by myself. Fear (and maybe sensibility) got the better of me and I turned around without attempting to go further than I felt comfortable.

This mountain may also sound familiar if you read some of my posts last year like, She Died Doing What I Love. This mountain is more of a memorial now, and not just for my family. Over the years, the location has claimed the lives of more than a few outdoor lovers. The trail head holds a hearty picnic table with a plaque in honor of Pamela Elizabeth Almli who lost her life her in 2008 in a tragic shooting accident, for example.

In reality, though, claiming lives can probably be said of most mountains. It can be said of almost anywhere people die whether it be the side of the road or in the home. Some places just stand out more because of our personal connection to them. Or for those who aren’t familiar with the outdoors, they present a sense of mystery and fear.

We were looking for a short place to adventure so that we would have time to have a meal at Shambala Bakery & Bistro, where I can enjoy gluten free food and the family can enjoy vegan fare, as well. Sauk Mountain sits up SR 20 about 90 minutes from Mount Vernon and offers amazing views.

It turned out to be a perfect day.

As we made our way up the side of the mountain, I thought of Karen and others who have not made it home from this hike. I bid her hello as we walked through the beautiful autumn hues of the meadow and admired Sauk Lake in the valley below.

You can read more about the stats on the hike on my Sauk Mountain page, but basically you head straight up a stacked set of switchbacks cut into a meadowed southwest facing slope to a ridge that snakes around to a junction with Sauk Lake. Here on the backside, the trail turns to rock and climbs up to a granite spine with a series of summits.

Most stop at the location of an old fire lookout with rusty remnants protruding from its surface. You will see all ages of hikers on this trail, we even passed a Navy vet of 81 years and a large family with young ones this day. For those more brave, it is possible to carefully make your way along the ridge, watching for loose stones and exposed ledges on your way to the mountain’s true summit just a few yards away.

When I was here in November of 2016, I made it past the lookout to a notch below a slab of rock I was not confident enough to ascend, especially being by myself. I have since then taken a Mountaineers scrambling course that I talk about in Reaching New Heights and feel a bit more secure in my mountaineering skills. However, that doesn’t mean I am fearless nor would I advocate anyone to strive for that goal. A healthy sense of fear is good.

I knew that by choosing to come back to Sauk Mountain today, I would have to face my fears and decide if I would attempt to climb all the way to the true summit. I most certainly knew that my husband and his children would. They are confident climbers and have successfully made it to the top of peaks I have no desire to attain.

Once up on the ridge, there were a few places as we made our way over and up to the summit that I had to pause and question how secure I felt continuing. Of course, everyone else flew over the ridge like they were on the sidewalk. Gary had to come back a few times to check on me as I pep-talked my way over the Class 3 exposure, most of it on my behind. The cold wind blowing and the fact that the vegetation was prickly was not helping.

I did make it to the flat summit block eventually, joining my family as they took in the views and shivered from winter’s approach. Snow is coming soon, we all knew. Mountains off in the distance were half shrouded in dark clouds and the skies were muted. It was a stunning scene, nonetheless.

As we left the last of the ridge, I said a prayer and good-bye to Karen before heading back down with my family. No one wishes for the accident that happened, but I can’t think of a more beautiful place to imagine her being. When I was there two years ago, it was simply a gorgeous place to visit and test my limits. Now it is a place to remember the memory of a loved one, too.

On the way down, when we passed the self-announced 81 year old man headed up solo, Gary and I tried to guess his situation. Had he lost his wife (he was wearing a ring) or did she not hike? Was she sitting at home doing her thing while he did his? Gary guessed she might even be in the parking lot waiting for him, reading a book. We both admitted we hoped to be doing the same thing together at that age and still getting out on trails. As we continued down, we kept looking up and watching his slow and steady progress to the top.

Well, when we got to the parking lot there was a car parked next to ours with a license plate holder that said US Navy and it had to be his (he had a ball cap on that said “Bottom Gun”). And I kid you not, a woman in the passenger seat contentedly reading a book. A woman who loves her husband enough to let him go hiking at the age of 81 while she waits in the car. I’m sure she does this with no small amount of concern.

Those of us who spend time in the mountains do so for a multitude of reasons, each unique to the soul. We are not immune to injury and death but will not give fear the power to take what we love away from us beyond what the world already has. Many hikers, backpackers, climbers and outdoorsy people have lost a loved one in the wilderness and still head out to bask in its splendor. The mountains are where we have felt most alive, confident and ourselves. They are our testament.

Mountains are also, at times, our memorial. And many of us would have no other memorial if given the choice.