Climbing Mt Borah - I Was Lied To

The deal with 2LT Klein was- he'd mountain biked to Silver City with me over Labor Day I’d hike up Mt. Borah with him later that month. Payment in full came due on 27 Sep.
We drove into the full campgrounds Friday night at the foot of Mt Borah. With no sites available, we found a relatively flat spot at the side of the road where we were establishing our camp when “Mike” a gregarious 60 pound overweight climber walked up, introduced himself, and told us there were several flat spots near his camping site where our tents would fit. By 0700 MDT the next morning Mike had breakfast and was gone, so we were able to use his table for breakfast.

“It’s 0816- we’re 16 minutes late departing” the precise 2LT announced as we left the 7,200 ft campground starting the 3.5 mile hike up to the 12,066 ft highest point in Idaho. The 2LT is a mountain climber- he’d reviewed the books on the climb and had his “ice pick” and walking stick with him. He had wanted to bring his ropes, but he knew I was going nowhere that required ropes and his reading said they’d be no need for them. “This is a Class 3 mountain” meaning the most difficult portion would be a scramble (using all four limbs to climb) up the steepest ridge “Chicken Out Ridge near the top", he reminded me. I trusted the 2LT’s research but had briefly reviewed one of his books to see that it supported this definition- which it did. After the first 1,000 feet of climbing (or hiking) we took breathers at every 500 ft gain and the 2LT would remind me we were to take short steps so as not to tire out. Despite the many short breaks and short steps, we kept passing people, and no one passed us.

Had the previous night’s camp been touring cyclists instead of climbers (or hikers- I still don’t know which word applies) we’d have all wandered into each other’s camp, learned where everyone started and planned to finish his tour, compared equipment, and discussed the best places to eat found on that tour. The climbers weren’t that social, but we did speak when we passed and pace and elevation seemed as prevalent a topic as it would have been among cyclists. I was surprised at the overall lack of fitness among them. Mike with my estimated 60 pounds overweight was the heaviest, but many were obviously overweight. The sign at the bottom of the trail had advised allowing 12 hours for the trip, and with the recent passing of fall equinox, that’s just a bit more daylight than we have. I’ve been caught by nightfall before on bicycle-tours (with lights), and I had no interest in being on that mountain at night. Between the time of the Silver City Ride and this climb, 2 Boiseans had spent the night on Mt. Borah without coats or lights after climbing it that day. I had no desire to get the news coverage they had generated; the news was they "survived".

By 1100 hours the climb turned into a scramble. With only 1 exception handholds and footholds were easy to find, and it was a fun scramble, but I did have to concentrate on looking up, finding those holds, and refusing to look down. “Ah, I’ve made the scramble”, I thought, “that wasn’t too bad”. Next thing I know I’m straddling a narrow ridge- 1,000 to 1,500 ft straight down on one side, and nearly as far down on the other- but there are a few obstacles to hit if one falls that direction. I freeze. The 2LT wonders if “he” can get me down! I have a flashback to the one spot that was difficult on the scramble, and decide without any remorse, that I’m going back down. When I arrive at the “difficult” spot in the scramble, it then seems easy to descend, and fear starts rapidly leaving my body. (I admit I like to be high and safe, and look straight down- from safely behind some well engineered safety fence. I enjoy that little spike of fear. This fear was not like that!) I knew the 2LT had been looking forward to this climb for sometime, and even when I announced that fear had the better of me, part of that sentence was a request that he finish the climb. He thought he could reach the top and be back within an hour. A single climber arrived just then, so the 2LT teamed up with him; we soldiers take the “buddy system” seriously, and this 2LT is a soldier's soldier. I found a nice spot somewhat isolated from the wind, and enjoyed my lunch. It was a great place to talk to the climbers and observe just at the bottom of the scramble. Most of them we had met on the ascent. There was the father son team (ages 60 & 30 I’d guess). The father’s steps seemed weak and wobbly to me even before he started up the scramble. I expected to see them again in a few minutes, but I was wrong. Then this 30 year old 30 pounds overweight guy shows up. He’s flushed and wobbly. His companion had left him behind. I thought he might wait with me at the bottom of the scramble, but he went on. Turns out his companion is acting as the 2LT’s temporary buddy and the 3 met somewhere near the top. Mike, our overweight campground friend, arrived tired, red, but still friendly and talked about 15 minutes though afternoon was progressing. He thought I’d chickened-out on “the edge of the knife” rather than “Chicken Out Ridge”. Turns out there are 3 of these ridges to cross. He assures me next time I come, I will be more acclimatized and used to the mountains, and will likely not Chicken out. I’m very glad I chickened out where I did.

I met my Waterloo where indicated.  I was supposed to walk along that narrow ridge which is where I "Chickened Out"

. The 2LT’s estimate of an hour to the top and back was wrong; it took two hours. I descended a bit more and found smooth wind-protected rock that caught the sunshine and took a little nap which let the last vestige of fear depart my body! It was beautiful up there. The mountain is much more impressive from the top looking down than from the bottom looking up! When the 2LT arrived, he had a bit of altitude sickness - dizziness, headache, stomach-ache. What a pair we’d have made had I overcome my fear and gone on- the fear-paralyzed led by the dizzy disoriented! At 1430 we headed down, and tired people were still headed up. In addition to the well publicized duo that recently survived the night on the mountain without so much as lights or coats, over time 7 people have died trying to climb Borah. By the time we reached the bottom just after 1700, my quads were screaming at me to stop descending and my feet had eventually joined in the chorus. From the fitness level of many climbing the mountain and their disregard of time, it seems a wonder that “news” isn’t generated from Mt. Borah daily.

The LT at the top

It was fun to try a new sport that bicycling seems good training for although my quads are stiff and the muscles in my feet a bit sore today (both from the descent), but the challenge, beauty, and experience made it worth it. I no longer owe the 2LT a mountain climb, and I’m always glad to have a debt paid-in-full.

A Chicken at Chicken Out Ridge

Steve

Free Conversant where this was originally posted has been shut down, so I've reposted here.  Originally posted 28 Sep 2008