Solstice

Once again, I found myself checking the White Mountains weather forecasts. They looked mediocre...a bit of wind near the summit but probably not too much. About two days before a storm. And once again, I decided to head up into the unknown, the only difference being that this month's attempt on Boundary Peak, the highest point in Nevada and the proposed end point of my Thanksgiving traverse, would be a simple dayclimb with an easy retreat should things deteriorate.

The climb was enjoyable. Cold and gray, but unbelievably quiet and peaceful. Solitude on the solstice.

Again, two bighorn sheep greeted me near the White Mountain crest. They paused, acknowledged me, then gracefully traversed over the ridge into California.

The wind picked up quite a lot near the summit, so it was not the day for a summit lunch break. But I did have the opportunity to look all the way southward across the White Mountain traverse to see the landscape where I was caught, overpowered, and humbled a few weeks ago. It was an emotional experience to interact with this landscape once again.

Loose ends

I've come out of the Thanksgiving experience. The psychological trauma has passed. New memories and details have emerged. For example, I remember during my downclimb from the ridge being so dehydrated that my vision was quite blurry. And while climbing just 100 feet above the creek, I pressed my lips to a moist streak on the rock wall to see if I could get some moisture. I remember thinking that I wasn't sure if I'd be able to complete the downclimb or have the strength to reascend back to the ridge. I found this lower section on Google Earth:

The waterfall pitch at the bottom of the downclimb, which I completed between 10 and 11PM on Monday 11/25. I bivouacked near the base of this and then spend the next day getting the rest of the way out. Some moves were well into the 5th class. The vertical distance between the top and bottom is 170 feet.

A few more details to share...

Paul, my driver, revisited the area to take photos of the scene during good daylight.

I called search and rescue from atop the pinnacle on the left. That night, I systematically downclimbed and reascended this face to the limits of my ability. The chute that eventually worked is just out of frame to the right. Vertical scale is about 1700 ft.

Mono County Search and Rescue posted their mission report from the incident. It was eye opening. I knew they had a rough time, but I didn't know a rescuer had been injured (by rockfall) looking for me. I'm quite saddened, but not surprised...in many ways it was a blessing being alone on such dangerous and unstable terrain. One photo tells more of the story than I ever could:

A MonoSAR member (white helmet) searches for me above Cottonwood Creek. This gives a bit more sense of typical terrain and rock quality in this drainage. And, to be honest, some of it was much worse.

My whole life I've been searching for mastery. I've always found it most interesting and most rewarding to dig deeply into my passions, from yoyos and other skill toys, to earth science, running and alpinism. In many of these cases, I reached a high level of proficiency, but often felt like I left a few rungs on the ladder.

The White Mountains self-rescue was the one moment in my life where I actually realized my full potential. On a physical level, it required more calculated execution than my finest race ever in track. From a mental focus perspective, it was significantly harder than descending the world's 13th highest mountain without, food, water, oxygen or the ability to clearly see this summer. And in terms of problem solving, nothing in my life has ever presented a bigger, more complex set of challenges, including my PhD qualifying exams. For thirty hours, I was perfect. But it doesn't feel an accomplishment, just a singular moment of intensity.

I will become even more adventurous in the future. As I build more stability in my professional, financial and personal life, it will become increasingly important to add risk rather than retreat into security. Mountains are just a canvas for my fullest expression.

Summit selfie atop Boundary Peak. White Mountain Peak, the start of the traverse, can be seen back left in the distance.