Grand Teton Adventure Part Three: The Beginning of the End

We arrived in Wyoming very late on Sunday night/Monday morning, camping in a wilderness area that Logel had researched. We parked and set up the tent for the night; I passed out immediately. The next morning, we were woken up by a blast of country-esque music coming from a truck nearby. We approached our fellow camper with hesitation. He greeted us warmly and invited us by his fire for some coffee. He was an older gentleman, probably in his 60's or 70's and he spent his time traveling around the country camping. I gratefully took some of his coffee and it was delightfully strong and served black, the way I like it. We started talking to him about our plans and he told us about some cool places he had been before. When he started talking about climbing Olympus in Greece, I got giddy and Logel poked me, explaining to the man that I was Greek. He then introduced himself as Odysseus and I almost lost it, I was so excited. We soon packed up our stuff and headed for Jackson Hole and the Jenny Lake Ranger Station in the Grand Tetons.

We pulled up at Jenny Lake and I emerged, still in my pajamas, to the stares of countless tourists. We headed to the Ranger Station and met some of the coolest rangers I'd ever encountered. We primarily talked to Ranger Jack and discussed our weeklong plans with him. They gave us our permits and we drove over to the trailhead. It took us about an hour or two to explode our stuff and pack for the trip. I was carrying all the trad pro on my back, jingling with every step. The hike to our campsite was short (only 5 or 6 miles) but steep. The elevation got to me almost immediately and I chugged my entire liter of coconut water within the first hour. I also borrowed Logel's trekking poles (I have since bought my own) and he used sticks, which helped immensely.

I was finally getting back to my normal hiking self when we started crossing snow. I had never had to do that before while carrying such a heavy pack, about 50 or 60 pounds. The guys taught me how to kick into the snow properly with my boots but I was struggling by the third stretch of snow. My boots were too narrow and I was starting to get blisters already. I have since replaced those as well, which was an excellent decision. Though I'd had them for over a year, they had never quite fit right, creating many blisters and other issues in the past. We passed the first campground and headed up even steeper snow toward ours. I was quickly instructed how to use an ice axe and then we headed up. As we were traversing a snow field that was at about a 45 degree angle, I started to panic. Mike, who was first, had realized we were too close to the waterfall on our left and the snow and ice were really thin, dumping into a swift underground stream. I couldn't help myself, but I became so freaked out that I started tearing up. Logel asked me if I was laughing or crying and was dismayed to learn it was the latter. I was exhausted and my feet were killing me. I was having so much trouble kicking steps into the snow and it felt like such a steep climb. I started to slip and caught myself a few times. Then, I didn't. It started slowly. I just fell to my knees and could feel them slipping down the snow and ice. I tried to use my ice axe but I couldn't get the right angle. Next thing I knew, I was sliding even farther and faster. I panicked. I screamed that it wasn't working as I tried shoving my ice axe into the snow. I finally turned it on its side and started self-arresting but I was going too fast. I couldn't believe I was falling. I kept thinking to myself that this was it, I was done for. I slid roughly 80 feet down the snow and ice before I hit the rocks. To quote Mike and Logel, I ragdolled down the rest of it, banging against 20 feet worth of rocks and gravel before I finally stopped on my back like a turtle.

Once I stopped, Logel leapt down toward me, with Mike following soon thereafter. Luckily for me, they are both EMTs and they both knew what to do. I hardly remember what happened but I was hysterical. I kept screaming that I wanted to go home and I was covered in blood and road rash. I was also freezing cold, since I had slid down so much snow in ice wearing nothing but and old crew unisuit. My left arm was particularly mangled, drenched in blood and swollen in various spots. Logel gave me his down jacket and tried to assess my injuries. Unfortunately, I was in too much shock to focus on my injuries. I cried about my camera, which was missing a lens cap (no big deal, but as I said, I was hysterical). I cried over my lost sunglasses. I cried over my tight boots. I was extremely unhelpful for Logel but it was entirely understandable since I had just suffered through a fairly traumatic experience. Luckily for everyone, I landed right near the trail to the first campsite. There were some other campers nearby that helped the guys gather my stuff and Logel helped me walk down. Fortunately, my legs weren't broken, just bruised and bloody. I sobbed everytime we had to cross snow but Logel helped me through it like a champ. Mike followed closely behind, gathering the belongings of mine that had been strewn down the mountain. 

When we got to the campsite, Logel and Mike started cleaning me up and conducting a further evaluation of my injuries. Most everything appeared to be a surface wound, except my left arm that was so mangled and in so much pain that I wouldn't let them touch it or clean it out. I continued to sob about my camera but Mike checked it and it still functioned, just a few minor scratches on the lens. Also, as I lamented over my lost lens cap (such a priority compared to everything else, I was so out of it), Mike reached into his pocket and pulled it out, exclaiming "you mean this lens cap?" I was ecstatic. They forced me to eat and drink water and put me to bed, trying to work out a plan for the next day and the rest of the trip.

Events occurred: June 23, 2013