Redemption

Forward to July 1, 2009--

I'd spent the night at the Bonneville Pass Trailhead, getting into the true spirit of the Western wilderness by sleeping in my car, drinking ice-cold beers pulled fresh from a cooler, and watching 3:10 to Yuma (new version) on my portable DVD player. In the morning, I started the engine and let the heater get going before I emerged from my sleeping bag and dressed. Roughing it is great.

Alone, I hiked almost to Bonneville Pass and then left the trail to follow a ridgeline to the summit of the northeastern Pinnacle Butte. That was one of the most amazing mountains I have ever been on, and it reaffirmed my undying, unchallenged love for the Absaroka Range much the same way giving my wife a diamond-encircled band for our tenth anniversary reaffirmed her undying, unchallenged love for me (the thrill on the mountain lasted longer, though, but maybe that is my fault-- oops). Anyway, that (the mountain, that is) could make for another trip report.

I started at 6 and got back to the car around 10. I had at least 5 hours to kill before I could check in at Togwotee Mountain Lodge, where I had a reservation to spend the night.

The day before, after climbing the northwestern Pinnacle Butte with musicman82, I mentioned, as he was getting ready to head home, that I might give Sublette Peak another shot the next day. He said, and this might not be exact but is pretty close, "Bob, this time, I think you'll get up there."

I doubted it.

First, there was the might; the looks from NW Pinnacle Butte suggested that NE Pinnacle Butte would be a task and that I should prepare myself for a long outing and for failure, but I'm glad to say I made the top and that it was easier than I thought it would be, almost disappointingly so. It's like trying to seduce a beautiful woman (not that I would know anything about that outside knowing my wife-- that's in case she reads this); you want her to accept your advances, of course, but not too quickly or early, lest it say more about her than about you, and let's face it-- we men need to believe it's all about our looks and charm.

Don't you ladies forget that!

Second, I think he imagined I would try a walk-up way we'd semi-scouted. The route existed, I knew, because andinistaloco, who had climbed the mountain and agreed with me about the conditions but was good, crazy, or lucky enough (or all three) to make the top, had mentioned it to me in January 2008.

Well, musicman82 was wrong, in a way, and that's only if I understood him correctly, which is a little up in the air when you're tired and you have cold beer and 3:10 to Yuma waiting.

I had no intention of climbing via the walk-up route. There were some good-sounding reasons-- the road that accessed the route was blocked by snow (true), the route was a little uncertain (less true), I might be too tired for that longer route after my morning climb (true in theory but not in reality).

No, the real reason came from pride. If all else failed, I was willing to come back another year and do it the walk-up way, but there was a part of me that needed to do it the hard way, especially since some dude from a rival high school had done it that way. There was no way a South Lakes Seahawk was going to get away with doing something an Oakton Cougar couldn't. So I did it to be true to my school.

Whatever.

I did it because I'm a stubborn bastard who has the brains to retreat but can't square it away with his heart.

I did it because it was there. There's a cliche for you, but it's still true.

I did it for the money and the girls. Okay, that's a lie, but I wish it weren't.

Telling myself I only wanted a better look at what had rejected me two years before, I approached the peak. I didn't plan to climb it. I didn't expect to climb it. I just wanted a better look.

And I looked at the peak in all its entirety, all its glory. I looked upon its works...

...and I despaired--

(For you lit-retarded folks, that was an allusion to Shelley's "Ozymandias," one of the greatest poems ever.)

And then, dammit, I climbed it. After slips and stumbles and steps to the edge, after closing one door and opening another, I got up.

I felt like a million bucks. Yeah, that's a cliche, too, but that's how I felt. I even whooped when I exited what turned out to be the crux and realized I was actually going to reach the summit.

And so I did. And what greeted me were sprinkles of rain and an approaching thunderstorm. At least this time I'd unstrapped my ice axe and left it below before going to stand on those summit rocks.

Then I had to retreat.

Oh well. Business concluded.