I've said it before, and I'll say it again...

I almost died today.
by Ellen

Holly and I split up today to explore Rocky Mountain NP. Holly hiked to Bear Lake, Nymph Lake, Dream Lake, read, napped, and wondered how to go about reporting a missing Ellen.

I decided to take full advantage of the 5-6 hours before sunset by tackling an 8.5 mile route along Fern Lake Trail. Stupid idea to start a long hike so late? Kinda. But away I went with a map, the GPS unit, and a plastic bag to protect my camera in case of rain. I was making great time at first and got some nice shots of the waterfalls along the way. My intended route would take me along two mountain-framed lakes and 3 waterfalls. Well I was 3 waterfalls in when I got high enough to have snow all around the path. I love snow, so I gladly went on despite being a bit chilly. The snow around the trail increased as my altitude increased until the trail was completely obscured by 4+ feet of the stuff just before Fern Lake. I couldn't help but laugh at all the snow because I had completely neglected to realize that gaining over 1,700 feet of altitude was bound to create a climate change. It was really cold and it should be noted that I was wearing tennis shoes, a t-shirt, and capris. No jacket, no nuthin'. And then it started to rain. My words from earlier came back to me "I just need a plastic bag in case it rains. I'm not worried about me, just my camera." Well, I put the camera in the plastic bag, tied a bandana around my head to lieu of a ski cap, and kept hiking. At this point, there are very few human tracks and the trail is nowhere to be seen. I'm following a combination of human and animal tracks and hoping that they follow the trail. The snow is so deep. I'm actually walking above the trees and every once in a while the trees below me poke through, providing something to grab onto. You'd think that I would have turned back the first time I fell hip-deep into the snow. Or the second. Or the third... But I was enjoying it so much. My fingers burned for a while before they went numb. My ankles were bright pink and I later found out they had been bleeding for a while. My feet were soaked and my shoes filled with snow. I tried my best to walk gingerly along the top of the snow, but I fell through and struggled out every 10 steps or so. At this point you might be wondering why in the world I kept hiking. I was aware of the dangers in continuing. I was pumping my arms and scarfing raisins to try to keep my body temperature up. I was aware that my progress was much slower than usual because of the difficulty of the snow which meant exiting the trail before dark was less likely. I knew that each time I fell through, my legs plummeted past branches, rocks, streams, etc. hidden beneath the snow and that since I didn't see another hiker for a couple of hours, an injury could mean getting stranded in the cold. Plus the slope of the snow was so great in places that even slipping on top of the snow could send me tumbing down 10's of feet into trees and rocks. But, I'll repeat, I was having SO much fun.
Let me try to explain. I've been thinking that this trip had less adventure and nearly-dying moments than I'd prefer and hoping to have a few things go wrong to correct that. Also, I know that I put too much of my security into how fat my checking account is instead of in God. He's been working on that of late and during the trip and just yesterday while we were listening to Job I was reminded of that struggle. A third factor to consider: I was praying so much on the drive to Colorado. I was asking for something over and over again but I didn't know what. I just kept thinking "Please, God, please..." and I knew I wanted something from deep within me and I had hopes of it happening at Rocky Mountian. I know that sounds fishy, but it was fishy to me too until this hike. So if you take God out of the equation, I would have never continued hiking. It was far too dangerous, I was far too underdressed, and I was all alone with no hope of another hiker to help me were something to go wrong. But as soon as things got dangerous, I realized how all of these factors were coming together. The thing with no name that I'd begged for, the way to get me to rely on God and put hope in nothing else, and my desire for adventure were all being answered. I could feel God with me and I wasn't so alone after all. I prayed for wisdom and sensitivity to His leading to know when to turn back or where to put my next step, and I continued feeling as safe as if I were laying in my hammock at home. At one point I was rather exposed and booming thunder rolled directly overhead. In my surprise I got scared, but then remembered how much bigger God is than the thunder He controls and marched happily on. There must have been 4 or 5 times when I stopped, peered down the increasingly difficult trail, and nearly turned back. But I felt such a drive to get to Odessa Lake, to "finish the race" just like at Cassidy Arch just 2 days ago. I would hate to turn back when my goal was just a bit further. I finally reach the sign "Odessa Lake ->" and think I have made it until I realize the side trail to get to the lake is quite long and runs along and across a partially-frozen stream. Were it February, the stream wouldn't faze me. But in late May the ice is caving and any step could send me into fast-moving, freezing water and underneath the ice downstream. I felt the danger for sure. Thought how I didn't want to inconvenience the rangers by forcing a search party out into the cold. But I knew the stream meant that the lake was close and teetered along the super-sloped snow as far from the center of the stream as I could with hopes of not walking over the rushing water unknowingly. I made it across the semi-exposed log-for-a-bridge and felt I was moments from seeing the lake when I encountered a giant felled tree along my only possible path to continue. With the branches still intact, traveling along the trunk would be nearly impossible, but the only other options were walking on the river or turning back. I actually chose to turn back at this point. But found myself walking towards the tree, then snaking and scraping my way through the branches until I emerged, rounded a corner and saw the smooth water of Odessa Lake stretching out before me. Framed by the craggy summits of Tourmaline Gorge, the lake made for a beautiful sight and I sighed in relief and joy at having made it. And then, believe it or not, the rain stopped. The sun came out. And I was basking in warmth from the light and the love of God. Beautiful. Perfect. He orchestrates the universe and He orchestrates these moments. Its a personal moment and a scary story to write online for all to see, but I want to be honest with you guys about my experience. I stood there for a while and, knowing that my destination had been reached (the only other sight I hoped for on this trail was Bear Lake which you can drive right up to), I decided to turn back down the path I'd traveled once before instead of heading higher into the mountains. Now completely assured that this hike was fully planned even though I hadn't anticipated any of it, I ran, leapt, and skied back down the mountain. I got in all the snow fun I'd missed this winter in Atlanta and even made up a new sport - tennis shoe sledding. I was worn out, cold, and numb for sure. But God was with me and it was great.
Holly was expecting me to join her in the parking lot at Bear Lake, and there would normally be no way to get there from my trailhead except that it was Memorial Day and so the shuttle bus was running. I ran Ninja Billy Goat style down the rocky trail ( I was making 10 minute miles at one point) in hopes of catching the bus and in enjoyment of the freedom of flying downhill, picking foot placement too rapidly to think. Long story short (I know, its soooo long already) I made it to the bottom, the last bus of the day came literally moments later, and I ended up catching a ride with a nice lady from the transfer station to Bear Lake where Holly was fretting about me. I was daggum cold for a long while, but I took a vitamin, got warm, and basked in memories of the day and all my other close encounters from trips past. I love feeling this alive.

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