Water Fall

A few days ago, we went on a second trip on the Eagle Creek Trail. This time it was lower miles, about fifteen in all. Our plan was to hike to a campsite most of the way to Inspiration Point and use it as a base camp. It was supposed to be relaxed. We had only planned on chilling, playing cards and unwinding a bit before the new semester started at school.

Although we left my house a bit later than we intended, it was fine because of the low mileage. The drive felt early but no problems in transit. As we pulled into the parking lot, three people were headed off of the trail. One of them looked like a sage backpacker; we asked him why he was heading off the trail so early.

“About three fourths of a mile up is a really nasty ice patch.” “How bad?” David asked. “Icicles the size of a man hanging over the path and the path itself is slicker than snot.” “We’ll check it out.” David replied.

The other two had a similar story. Apprehension welled up in the pit of my stomach as I strapped my backpack in.

“Let’s do this!” David said as I locked my car. His enthusiasm was contagious and soon we were off. The scenery was breathtaking, ice formed at the edge of every body of water. On the opposite side of the creek (we passed on the left going up the trail) were sheets of glass hanging from trees and the creek had ice all around it, though the creek itself was intensely blue and clear. After a quarter of an hour we passed the first of three ice patches, it was not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

“Just keep your weight over your feet.” David said.

Though it was slick, there was hardly any incline. Even with the river rushing by me, I passed it shortly.

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said to him. “Not at all.” He replied.

Along the trail were these odd fibrous ice growths. They looked like ice plants, often with pine needles and other detritus on top. After touching a few, their fragility was obvious. The next three miles passed without incident, except that David pointed out many rock and ice formations and trees besides. I listened, enjoying the view and friendship.

Eventually we came to Tunnel Falls, foreshadowed by a dull roar a few hundred feet down the trail. As we neared it, a winter wonderland greeted us. Everything was covered in ice. Off of every precipice icicles hung. Ice and snow blanketed the whole area. It was spectacular.

“Press on and press forth,” David said.

So we did.

As icy and bad as it was, there was a half-inch cable running along the worst of it, at points we held on for dear life. This was the second of three dire spots that day.

Less than half a mile later we came across the final ice patch on our trail. Only twenty feet of slope separated me from a roaring river and waterfall below. With the ice four inches thick and nothing to hold onto I stopped.

“David,” I said, looking desperate, “I have never seen anything more dangerous in my life.” “It’ll be fine, I’ll go first.”

He gave me no choice but to follow shortly after.

As I was walking, I took one wrong step. The ice was just too slippery. I cried out for God, “Lord help!” I stopped slipping and made it to a safe spot ahead.

David was twenty feet ahead of me and didn’t notice. I was continually in prayer until we were out of the ice patch completely. After getting into camp the first thing we did was pump water, not wanting to be anywhere near the water in the dark. David set up the tent while I worked on a fire. After three tries, I realized my inadequacy and what kind of predicament we were in. I tried jumping up and down for a little bit to un-numb my feet.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked over to David, “The wood is too wet. I can’t get a fire going.” Without looking up from his work he said, “I see that.”

I choked down dinner (I was dehydrated and nauseous) we climbed into the tent. I wasn’t sure of my sleeping bag but it was warm in a matter of minutes. We talked for a bit and fell into fits of rest and sleep.

That night, I spoke to the Lord.

“Lord I don’t want to die.” I had been planning on continuing but a whisper in my heart interrupted me.

“You will live, but watch out for David.”

I immediately started praying for David’s life.

~

The sunlight on the ceiling of the tent woke me up. I reached for my water bottle outside of the tent, it was frozen completely solid, as were David’s. As David and I talked through the day to come, I explained what happened on the ice. There were two options, we could go up and around by Wattum Lake (which was a lot more mileage and we had no idea what lay that way) or we could go below Tunnel Falls and then hike out Wednesday. We later found out that freezing rain was supposed to start that evening, and would make the hike down horribly dangerous, covering everything in half inch thick ice.

We tried the Wattum Lake trail but only 50 feet up the trail was an impassable spot, we soon returned to camp and headed the other direction. Because we camped so close to the worst ice spot, it wasn’t even half an hour before we were at it. The only word to describe it was treacherous. It had warmed up enough that all the ice had a thin sheet of water covering it. Constantly I prayed, thanking God for each—

“Daniel!” I heard David shout.

I turned around to see him less than an arm’s length away from the waterfall. A wet sheet of ice separated us.

“Are you okay!?” I shouted.

“Yeah.” He said, looking around at his feet, picking up a hiking pole just above him.

The roar of the waterfall made it difficult to talk but I motioned him to a tree about fifty feet upstream of him. The only reason he could even walk was because the moving water cut at the ice and the rock beneath him wasn’t completely smooth. The stretch of path that had taken me so long before only seemed to take seconds. After he made it to the tree there was a patch of snow that afforded some grip. I unbuckled my thirty pound pack and threw it on the ground. My water bottle flew out of its pocket and into the river.

“Should I give you my pack first?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

I laid down and hoisted the pack up, laying it next to mine. After doing setting his hiking poles next to mine I reached for his hand, “Your turn.”

“I can’t get a good foot hold,” he said, looking at the ground. “That’s what my hand is for. I am going to pull you out. You can scramble up if you need to.” “Okay.” He grabbed onto my hand and he climbed out.

“You’re okay?” I asked. “A little banged up. I’m kinda shaky.”

We both rested, catching our breath. I cannot even imagine what it would have been like to have to go over the same ice patch again. The only thing I knew to do was to pray.

“Would you mind if I prayed for us?” “Not at all.” I closed my eyes, “Lord, we know you are a good God. We are your servants always. God please give us sure footing, guide us in every step we take.”

That phrase meant more in that second than it ever had before.

Once again I faced my icy hell, now even less sure of myself than I had been the first time. I prayed constantly for David’s and mine safety. My conversation with the Lord from the night before echoed in my consciousness. After the worst of it we shuffled down the icy path, using our hiking poles for everything we could.

As we looked at the waterfall, thousands of gallons of water spilled over each second. Icicles the size of men hugged the walls of the ravine.

“I’m so glad you’re alive man.” I said to him. “You and me both…you and me both.”

There was nothing left but to continue on down the path.

So we did.

It was amazing that the day before everything had been as nonchalant as it had. The beauty all lay there in the landscape but it was a terrible beauty, a fierce beauty and a reckless one. Later down the trail we saw a man come up. He was only up for the day, even as we expressed our concern he continued up the trail, leaving us.

Most of the time, in the really bad spots there was something to hold onto, whether it was icicles or rocks. However, I saw a patch up ahead longer than five feet that sloped towards the water twenty feet below. Since he had fallen last time, I had David in front of me.

It wasn’t even David’s fault. It was one step that had no grip. He clawed wildly, digging his poles into the ice.

“NO! DAVID! NO!” I shouted, tearing at my vocal chords, but that was all I could do.

In mid fall he twisted around onto his back, he fell into waist deep water, just behind a leafless tree.

“David!” I shouted, after he landed.

“I’m okay! I’m okay! I’m okay!” He shouted, in shock.

Up the river from him was a large sand bar, if he’d fallen even a few feet down river he would have been underwater completely.

“David! Head up and over, I’ll be able to climb down to you!” “What!?” He shouted. I repeated myself as loud as I could, motioning wildly with my arms. Regardless of whether he heard me he headed up stream on the sand bar. I soon found a place to climb down. I unbuckled my pack, adrenaline making my movements shaky.

As I reached the bottom I once again asked, “Are you okay?” “I’m pretty banged up but no broken bones.” “I’ll grab your pack and carry it up.” “That’d be good.” He grimaced, rotating his arm.

On the trail, as we put our packs on, I prayed. “Lord, you have control of everything. We can’t do this without you. Lord we love you and submit everything, even our very lives to you. Amen.”

As we steeled ourselves to cross over the area that David had just fallen on, the man we’d seen before came down the trail. We explained the situation and introduced ourselves.

“There’s no going back up.” Adam said. “Let’s go on.” I said.

I stepped very carefully forward. I could not have been more intentional to keep my weight directly over my feet.

“Lord please,” was my whole prayer.

As I made it to the part where David had slipped last I started to lose grip. My feet started moving towards the edge.

My whole being screamed, “I want to live!”

I threw my body forward and skidded to a stop on my knees. I looked up to see David and Adam looking concerned. “I’m okay.” I reassured them as much as myself. I watched as they both crossed, constantly praying.

“Do you remember if that’s the last of it?” I asked Adam. “There’s one more.”

Although the next spot was bad, it was more because icicles hung over our heads. One missed Adam’s head by inches and smashed his boot, or would have if they hadn’t been steel toed. We found out later he had been mountaineering quite a bit and was very experienced. Although most of the mileage was ahead of us, the worst was behind. One of the most blessed things I have ever seen was that parking lot coming into view.

We shook hands with Adam when we parted ways.

As we walked to our car there was a gal sitting on the tailgate of a rig. “Good job on not falling to your icy death.” She said, laughing as she breathed out cigarette smoke.

I couldn’t say anything in response but only looked at David.