"Uh-oh" Moments

[nartreb]

a double uh-oh:

Along with a couple of friends, I'd just completed a two-week trek through parts of Denali National Park. We came out at the park road, rode the bus to the campground, showered, and took the rest of the day off. Next day we picked a point on the map that would involve moderate altitude gain but that would require us to carry "only" about five days' worth of food. A ranger gave us some pointers about the route, and we headed out.
Fast-forward a few days (past a rainstorm, leaky tent, etc etc) to our descent. We were following a stream that was clearly marked on our map, which the ranger had indicated was a good descent route. The stream was still mostly frozen, so we walked right on the ice. Gradually the valley became more and more narrow, and the slope started increasing. Eventually we were in a narrow canyon, and couldn't see more than thirty feet ahead because the canyon was so sinuous. We put on crampons at this point.
Five minutes later we were very glad we'd done so, as we came within a few feet of walking over the lip of a waterfall! Not a small one, either. Had we not been wearing crampons, the odds were pretty good we'd have slid into a Wile. E. Coyote scene. Imagine the "uh-oh" feeling of rounding a corner, realizing there is nothing but air in front of you, and wondering just how overhung the ice is... Descent was impossible, we had to backtrack uphill on the frozen stream until the valley widened out a little. Then we had to scramble up the sides, which were mostly poor-quality rock partially overgrown with alder.
After fighting our way through this for a while, I had the odd feeling that the binocular case I was wearing was lighter than usual. Sure enough, the case had come open and the binoculars were missing. Miraculously I spotted them some fifty feet below me (black binoculars lying on dark rocks). I wasn't looking forward to repeating that climb, but it was easier the second time since I could leave my pack at the top. Even more miraculous, the binoculars weren't damaged at all.
It turned out that if we'd stayed out of that valley, we'd have had an easy descent through alpine meadows.
looking back at the waterfall after our escape

the route we should have taken in the first place

 

[McRat]

Not exactly on the trail, but...

When I was 13 I did my first solo hike up Cardigan. I rode by bike out about 10 miles, practically ran to the summit and back (young knees), got on the bike and rode home. All in under 4.5 hours.

I jumped off the bike and BOLTED into the house to brag... when I tripped on the &%@#n concrete stairs.

I bruised my knee badly enough to require a trip to the Hospital in Plymouth.

Mountain Solo - Check
My own front stairs - ummm Not so good.

 

[Adk_dib]

I was doing rocky peak from route 9, Russia NY. It was a cold windy day in june and I was pushing it becouse I wanted to get back to my campsite by dark. I got to what I thought was rocky peak and turned around ( I spent a total of 10 minutes at the top becouse it was freezing and i had no view anyway). A guy stopped me and asked if i had passed the lake. I said what lake? I only got to rocky peak ridge and had to turn around and go back. Well becouse i pushed myself i cramped up in BOTH legs going back up bald peak. I was in pain, could not move my legs and was about 2 hours from my car , and still ahd to climb about 300 feet up bald peak. I said UH-OH very loudly ( I thought worse things to myself). I was never so glad to see my car in my life.

 

[onestep]

Lots of uh-oh moments - 2 lost cameras, reading glasses while bushwhacking, altimeter, <snip>

And as a newbie to the compass, returning from North Kennebago Divide towards Whitecap: coming to the old road up there and getting confused as to which side of the ridge to descend. I had to sit for 5 minutes and just breathe before I could focus and regain some sense of direction.

Oh yeah! My brandy spankin new digital altimeter is within a hundred feet of Oz, lost forever in a thick spruce push on my return from Wheeler & Black... and let me not forget my first solo 'whack on E Kennebago. Simple enough looking back now but then it was an adventure. Just as I signed the log the distant thunder was directly overhead! Thunder/Lightning both at the same time, non stop, Panic set in, I turned and started down but my compass was not pointing the right way! I KNEW it wasn't pointing the right way!! (fortunatly I came to my senses and slowed my mind down and 'trusted' the compass)

Onestep

 

[Gris]

One of many and another double whammy. About 10 years ago I was solo hiking in West Virginia. Hiked miles up a steep boulder strewn creek w/ my fly rod in search of trout. Finally saw a real nice one lurking in a pool. Couldn't get there from my side. And, I had to cross at some point anyway for the return trip. I sat there for a long time eyeing that trout. Finally, and foolishly, I decided to jump down and across. It was only about four feet across but about ten feet down. I landed, purposefully with all my weight on my "good" knee, and CRUNCH i felt a very sharp pain. Caught the trout and limped miles back to camp and cooked him up. Next day my knee was super swollen and i couldn't do anything. Was up for a week, so two days later i decided to limp out w/ pole assistance w/ my stepfather on an 'easy" hike to a remote waterfall. It was very painful but i was managing. Got near the falls but couldnt really get down there w/o some serious root grabbing scrambling. halfway down i slipped and had to use my now bad leg for traction lest i fall to my death. Soon as i planted it i felt excrutiating pain including the ripping of new scar tissue and the ping-ping-ping of ligaments going. Limped back to camp again. Had to wait another day and a half before doing another long hike. When i got back to florida theMRI showed i had totally blown the cartilage and many ligaments too. That was the moment I realized I wasn't so young anymore, regardless of how i felt...

 

[MichaelJ]

I have two such moments.

One was on a cold, wet day when I decided I was going to go up Whiteface, solo, despite the pouring rain. I managed to get myself up onto a ledge on the trail, stuck precariously, unable to go forward due to the weight on my back unbalancing me, unable to go step back because it just wasn't steppable that way. If I slipped, I was going to fall between 6 and 8 feet straight down onto another ledge, likely break something, and almost surely not see anyone else that day. Later in the hike it hit me just how at risk I was for hypothermia, too.

The other was a bright, sunny, beautiful day at Crag Camp, having just tagged Jefferson and planning to go over Madison and down to Pinkham the next day. I had brought sugar and a lemon to make fresh lemonade. I took my Leatherman and cut through the lemon and right into the tip of my finger. That was a moment of many more interesting words than simply "uh-oh".

 

[Bob Kittredge]

dug

I took that route off Firescrew once and found the trails to both Hanging Rock and Cilley's Cave and still couldn't find 'em. I've never found the Grotto Cave either. Beginning to think someone's putting me on.

 

[Remix]

Bush whacking up Rogers Slide (long ago) with nike sneakers---the route had plenty of smooth bolders to climb up and over, and the soft rubber soles helped quite a bit.

Then it began to rain.

 

[MEB]

A few years ago I was hiking on Pleasant Moutain with the dogs and Paul. The trail we were on does not get much use so we had the dogs off leash. We were going along one section and I caught a movement out of the corner of my eyes and the next thing I knew Rueben was in hot pursuit of a porcupine.....uh-oh. He came back right away after calling him but he had a mouth full of quills. The next uh-oh came when I realized both me and my husband had left behind the leatherman. It took a good 1/2 hour or so to pluck out the quills and thankfully the dog was very cooperative about it. Many lessons learned on this one.

-MEB

 

[JohnL]

Sorry for the length of this but I've been around long enough to have goofed up a lot.

In January of ’77 three of us headed up the Bridle Path in about 6 inches of new snow, planning on going only to the Hut since we had gotten a late start on the day. When we got to the Agonies, I took off my pack to get a drink and snack and noticed that the top pocket was unzipped. And my car keys were missing! Uh oh. Jimmy said “No Problem. We can break a window and I can hot wire it.” Gee, I felt better already! NOT! On the way down I fruitlessly looked in vain for the keys, hoping for a miracle. When we got back to my car, which in those days was parked along the side of the road since there was no lot, Jimmy was getting his ice axe ready to bash one of the rear windows out when I spied my keys in the snow near my left front tire. “Wait” I yelled and just in time. So if you ever see me checking and re-checking to see if I have my keys with me, you know why.

A few winters ago I was doing the Falling Waters Loop (solo, sans partners, alone, by myself or whatever the politically correct term is) and was crossing the ridge on my way towards Lincoln. There was a moderate amount of snow and ice and I had my snowshoes on. As I was climbing a semi-steep section to one of the humps between Haystack and Lincoln, my snowshoe crampons lost their grip on the ice and down I went, belly-sliding down the slope….faster and faster. Uh oh. I grabbed for rocks, I dug in my poles, anything to get a grip. I pictured myself, battered at the bottom of some slope, and I furiously tried to stop myself. After what seemed like an eternity, which was really 3 or 4 seconds, I gradually came to a stop. I looked around, gathered myself and got up. Then I looked down. I said to myself “John, you’re a very lucky boy today.” I changed into crampons and continued on to the summit of Lincoln where a whiteout greeted me. I turned around and headed back the way I had come. No sense testing the mountain gods twice in one day.

On Memorial Day weekend of ’78, Jimmy, his dog Keelo and I headed up to camp near the summit of Mt Avalon late in the afternoon. The skies were crystal clear and we were looking forward to watching the stars from a high and dark vantage point. We hauled up just enough beer to keep the stars in relative focus throughout the night. We had no tent, just a plastic tarp and light sleeping bags. After the last of the day hikers had left the summit, we broke out the overnight gear and the bottle opener. After a while the skies began to cloud over, the air got cooler and the winds picked up. Soon it started raining and then all hell broke loose. Uh oh. Small hailstones fell out of the sky and lightning started crashing all around us. The lightning flashes were blinding and the smell of ozone (and fear) was strong. Keelo was howling. I emptied my pack (external aluminum frame) and tossed it as far as I could away from us. We were in a very conspicuous place and there was nothing to do but ride it out. After about 45 minutes the storm had passed, we were soaked but grateful that we were in one piece.

At the last minute I had decided to take a quick hike up Mt Waumbek, knowing that others had broken trail for me the day earlier. I parked at the trailhead and got out of the car to get my gear out and an empty spot in the trunk of the car hit me. No boots! Uh oh. I had left them at home. I had on a pair of summer low hiking shoes and after fitting my gaiters to them, I decided, what the heck, let’s give it a try. Everything was fine but I always put my boots in the front seat with me from now on, just to be sure.

An uh oh moment that I witnessed was actually my favorite, keeping in mind that I have a morbid sense of humor. Several winters ago, Jim and I were out on the small back porch of Grey Knob camp checking out the evening weather when the door burst open. A fellow hiker John was having obvious problems with his stove. Fuel had overflowed onto the stove block and he was taking it outside to prevent any catastrophes inside. As he burst through the door, the fuel had by that time overflowed into his hands and his hands were literally on fire. He bumped into Jim, thereby spilling fuel onto the back of Jim’s legs and now both of them were on fire; Jim’s legs and John’s hands. Uh oh. Jim bounded down the stairs in three long jumps and John heaved the stove over the railing and then dove hands first into the snow, both of them screaming and whoahing as they dove for the snow. John escaped with only minor blisters and Jim’s pants only suffered a couple of small melt marks. Outside of the potential hazards of this incident, it was one of the funniest things I had ever seen in the mountains.

The good thing about all these uh oh moments (and I’m sure I have others that I just don’t remember at this time), is that I was fortunate enough to learn from them and none of them have been repeated. Yet.

JohnL

 

[Dugan]

Bears Den/Newton Reservoir area: exploring in a new-to-me section off trail in the afternoon. Gearless except for clothes, shoes, and a dog. Didn't bother to look at my watch... then it was getting dark, then it WAS dark. Feeling a bit apprehensive and completely unsure of which direction to turn, I looked at my dog (Blizzard at the time, this was before Dugan four-legs who I do not think could do this), said, "let's go home, boy" then followed his lead. We were back to just about where I'd left the trail a couple hours before in about 45 minutes. Needless to say, he received an extra-special dinner.

 

[snowbird22]

My favorite "Oh uh" moment was when I forgot my crampons and tried to hike Osceola without them in January. I would not recommend it.

 

[cbcbd]

I was doing a 8 pitch route in the Sierras on a near vertical wall. Anyway at about pitch 5 it started to rain. The route was loose all the way and I thought rappelling would be very unsafe because our ropes would have certainally knocked rocks down on us as we pulled out ropes after each rappell. Anywho i decided to keep going up and fast, well I was running out alot of rope and reached a narrow ledge system about 12 inches wide, I set my anchor and called down to my buddy "climb when ready" he began climbing and I was pacing back and forth reeling in rope when I looked down to see, I had never clipped in to the belay station With 50 ft between me and my last piece I dont even want to think about what would have happed if I leaned back on the anchor as I always do. I clipped in fast but stayed very unnerved for awhile.
Lesson learned, even in bad conditions when under pressure FOCUS, one slip up can do you in. Oh I never did tell my partner what happened.

I have done similar very bad mistakes while climbing - like starting to put on my harness, getting distracted, then after building my anchor and I was ready to rappel I realize that my harness was only being held by the velcro on the belt
Climbing is something that affords very little "uh ohs". You learn very quickly to triple/quadruple/quintuple... check everything.

 

[Dugan]

I'm surprised I haven't been reminded of a certain uh-oh moment from a bushwhack last fall when a large rock dislodged and rolled onto my foot... my hiking partner called over, "Are you okay?" I tried to reply, "Fine," but what came out was a strangled "Noooooo!"

Still have a lump from that.

 

[Stan]

An "uh-oh" followed by an "oh well, hope I didn't offend anyone" moment.

Departing a busy switchback for a pit stop I came across a comfortable log, dug a cathole and casually did my thing, enjoying the sounds and sights of the woods AND the relief. After returning to the trail and proceding toward my goal I soon passed uncomfortably close to a very familiar looking log. That's when the uh-oh oh well ... feeling hit me.

 

[NewHampshire]

My "uh-oh" didnt happen ON the trail, rather coming back from it. After doing the Wildcats a couple of months ago Jen and I decided to drive down the Kanc.......in the middle of a snowstorm........4 inches or more of unplowed snow on the ground........horrid visibility.......nice and slippery. Needless to say it was a hair raising experience. Lesson learned. Never again.

Brian

 

[Frodo]

My only "Ut-Oh" that I can think of at the moment is when myself and my friend Paul drove up from Boston to climb Eisenhower one winter day back in Jan, 1999. We joked around and listened to some good music for the ride up, and when we were getting ready for the hike, Paul realized that he forgot his winter boots! He was wearing sneakers. We ended up chalking this trip up as being a 6 RT hour "scenic drive'..

 

[Raymond]

For Adk_dib, Rocky Peak Ridge is the high point, but it is the one beyond the lake, Marie Louise Pond. Rocky Peak is the one that comes first when hiking from Route 9.

I think I've mentioned this one before, but one of my uh-ohs that comes to mind was the time my old friend Bob and I hiked to the bottom of Quechee Gorge then tried to scale the cliff. I got about 20 feet up and realized I couldn't go any further, and couldn't get down, either. Bob was stuck about 10 feet below me.

Several times the feeling that I needed to try to do a controlled slide down the face welled up inside me, but I always fought it back down, certain that if I were to try it I would hit something and spin off the rock and land on my head. I also spent a fair amount of time calculating the possibility of someone on the bridge above us dropping down a rope. It didn't seem very likely.

I finally found a foothold to my left and worked my way down that way. Bob went right, and we touched down on the riverbed at the same time. We both declared what a stupid thing that had been. He told me that he had been trying to figure out how he was going to explain to my mother how it was her son ended up in the hospital.

Nate, when Susan and I climbed Elephant last year, we also had difficulty getting down. First she wanted to turn left for the descent, while I knew that we needed to turn right, then after returning to the top and getting our bearings, I somehow got turned around and was convinced that we were heading the wrong way. Susan convinced me otherwise, and she had it right, although we did end up farther north than we wanted to be. (We came down the right fork of the herd path, while we'd ascended on the left, if you know where I mean.)

 

[The Sikes]

While hiking the Dix range in NY, we were heading over to Hough when I realized that I had taken my glasses off to look at the map and never put them back on....never did find out where they went. Went back and looked but that was like looking for a needle in a haystack blind. Then a few weeks later, with a new pair of glasses on, I had a panic attack that I had lost my new glasses only to realize that I had them on. We all had a good laugh at that one.

 

[dr_wu002]

Wimp

I was hoping to have a few Uh-Oh moments today, going into the presidentials alone with an injured ankle. But I chickened out

-Dr. Wu